


Stitches, Kisses, & Exceptions

by FyreFlys



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, BFFs being supportive, Bisexual, Blood, Body Dysphoria, Completed, DNF, Depression, FTM, Family, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Literally so much angst, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Pansexual, Periods, Sappy, Self Harm, Starvation, Suggestive, Suicide, Swearing, Trans, Trans Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Walgreens, hard breakup, mentions of child abuse, poppin pills, sap is 3rd wheeling so hard but he’s here for it, sapnap is the mom friend, slight PTSD, snuggles and cuddles, some homophobia, some transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyreFlys/pseuds/FyreFlys
Summary: This isn't how this was suppose to happen; this wasn't suppose to be how they had their first kiss. George had imagined they'd be on a Florida beach, watching the sunset. Dream would look over at him, a smile on his face. And they'd just drift closer. Or maybe they'd be in London. On George's couch in his flat, watching a movie. The clock would read midnight, and as the credits would start to roll, he'd look over at him. In a burst of confidence; cup his cheek, and pull him in.But definitely not like this. In Dream's bathroom at four in the morning. Wrists gushing blood.[Trans Dream, DNF]
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 49
Kudos: 318





	1. Suprise

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty Folks - this story is a lot, ngl. I originally posted this on Fanfic.net but thought I'd put it here too. **This note is long but I would appreciate it if you at least read the *** portion, ty**
> 
> I personally don't like writing fanfics about real people (I prefer fictional characters) bc I always feel weird if I were in their shoes. Like if I came across a fanfiction of me and someone else, I'd feel incredibly awkward & weird. I'd also hate to offend anyone. However, I've had this story idea rattling around in my head for far too long and one day I just decided to write it. I didn't intend for the characters to be real people when I originally thought about it, but I was suddenly using real people as I wrote it. (Not entirely sure why, but I did). Because of this, I'm sort of just using Dream and George as pre-made "fictional" characters to write a story, instead of making up my own. (This "one-shot" is long enough without me giving each character's whole background story, so take this as a short cut) And I'm lazy. So in no way does this story actually represent their real personalities or qualities, etc. (Unless I somehow magically got everything right) Nor would I wish this to be a real representation of them. (Suicidal Dream? I hope not) And If Dream or George miraculously ever find this and find it offensive, I will take it down no questions asked.  
> (ha ha future me poppin in- so much for not wanting to write about real people *looks at the other fics I've written since*)
> 
>  ******* Also I'm straight & cis. So idk what it's like to be trans or gay (I have gay and trans friends, and while I sort of know what their life is like, idk what they really go through/experience). I've also been lucky enough to not suffer from depression. So I don't know what it's like to hate yourself or your existence, or feel those sorts of things. I just wanted to write something really heavy, but I don't want to offend anyone. I have the best intentions with this one, I promise. I tried to do research to try and make things as accurate as possible (I don't want to misrepresent anyone), but I'm sure there's something I've missed/messed up, so please forgive me.  
> Bc of this, PLEASE feel free to give constructive criticism (over the topics listed above). I can only learn & improve on this sort of stuff if I know what I can do better. (I might even make changes to the story so it's more accurate, idk) *******
> 
> I didn't originally plan to publish this (primarily because the characters are real people). At first I was just writing it for my own sake. But I actually ended up really liking how it turned out, so I guess I'm posting it. It's definitely not my best work, but I sorta spent a solid 3 months feeling kinda proud of it so.
> 
> I am serious when I list this as a warning for suicide. Later in the story I do kind of get into detail.
> 
> Also this first chapter is a little slow so bare with me. (& I'm still figuring out how to format on here, so some things aren't italicized when they should be)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream gets a surprise visitor on his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//: dysphoria, blood, panic attack, references to self harm

Red stains the toilet bowl.

_Drip...Drip_

Scarlet pluming out across the water.

Every positive emotion is immediately flushed away. Like an anchor, his stomach sinks.

He covers his face. He's unable to move. Instead he sits there on the toilet, the sight of blood only reminding him, once again, of everything he tries not to be. It's like being sucked into a hole of darkness, his emotions swirling down a drain. His chest feels tight, and the thoughts he always tries to ignore come crashing back down on him.

He ran out of birth control just a couple days ago. And he hasn't been able to get a hold of any T for months now. Of course this would happen.

He's not entirely sure how long he sits there, unable to move. Finally he reaches for the cabinet in search of a tampon.

He's out. He curses. All he has left are night pads. Which won't fit in his boxers. He huffs, hands running over his face.

He reluctantly grabs the bikini-cut women's underwear out of the cabinet, yanking off his basketball shorts and boxers to pull them on. He slaps on the pad, stomach squeezing in revolt. He wipes. Stands. Pulls them up. Flushes. Pulls on his shorts.

He grits his teeth. There's nothing else he can do.

He curses when he remembers the boys are on discord. He said he'd be back in a couple of minuets. It had been at least fifteen.

He washes his hands, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He freezes.

_You're a girl._

He bites his lip. He curses, tears springing forward. All the negative emotions he convinces himself he doesn't have rush in, leaving him feeling limp. He forces himself back into his office. He heavily plops back down in his chair. He licks his lips, wiping his eyes. What is he suppose to tell them?

" _Dreeeaaaam~_ " he hears Nick through the headset laying on his desk.

He slowly pulls it back on.

"He's been gone for like 20 minuets," George's voice comes through.

He runs his hands over his face. He hesitates to take himself off mute.

"Hey," he finally sighs back into his mic.

"Woah! He's alive!"

"We thought you fell in dude!" Nick jokes.

Under usual circumstances that would have made him smile.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"What took you so long?" George asks.

He hesitates to answer, because he doesn't have a good answer.

"Hello? Dream?"

"Yeah I uh- stuff happened that I had to take care of." He finally manages.

"...in the bathroom?" George laughs, and Dream knows what he's insinuating.

He would give a sarcastic comment, or at least play along, but he's not in the mood.

"Ah-no. Other, stuff." He says.

"Mmhmm, right." George teases.

Dream sighs, rubbing his face. He hesitates to say it.

"Guys I'm kind of tired. I think I might hop off."

"What? We're in the middle of recording dude!" George complains.

"It's only like, what, 4o'clock where you are? How are you tired bro?" Nick points out.

He has nothing to tell them. There are no good excuses. "I'm sorry."

"Dream, seriously?"

He bites the inside of his cheek. George is going to beg, and he can't refuse him.

"I gotta go." Is all he says instead.

Before he can click off the call Nick speaks up.

"Is everything okay dude?"

He licks his lips, nervous. The truth is that's he's very far from okay.

"Yeah." He breathes quickly. "Talk to you guys later." He hangs up.

He slouches back into his chair, covering his face.

He wants to cut.

\- - - - - - - - -

The dash reads 1:03am. He runs his hands over his face.

The lit up Walgreen's sign on the tan brick building haunts him, the "a" flickering in and out, like it's mocking him.

What he's about to do makes him sick to his stomach. The sign makes him sick to his stomach- he only comes here for one thing. His hands shake, breathing threatening to labor. He's been fighting the anxiety attack all the way here. And now it's really trying to take him over. He forces himself out of the car before it can hit him. If he's in public it'll force it back until it's over with and he's back in the car.

He steps through the sliding door, pulling the hood of his hoodie forward. He hesitates to go down the aisle. He keeps walking past it. Picking up other things that he doesn't need: box of chocolates, small bouquet of flowers, shampoo. At this point he's making it look like he's buying it for a girlfriend. And that's honestly fine with him. Dissociating himself from the problem. Finally he works up the courage to go down the isle. He tries not to glance at any of it. He finds his usual box. Quickly picks it up, and leaves.

The cashier is probably only 16 or 17, chewing gum and playing on her phone. He sets down the bouquet, and then the chocolates, and the shampoo, the teddybear, the socks, and then finally the box of tampons. The girl smiles up at him, and he can tell by the expression on her face that she's swooning.

"I wish my boyfriend was this nice." she says, sending him a smile as she fills a bag.

He can only purse his lips, giving her a tight smile in return.

"Do you want the bouquet in a bag?" She asks.

He shakes his head. "You can leave out the teddy bear too."

She nods. "Dollar 27 48," she says.

He swipes his credit card, quickly punching in his pin. She hands him his bag, receipt inside. He takes the bouquet and the teddy bear.

"Have a good night," she says. He nods, "you too."

When he gets home he sets everything on the dining table, opening the box of tampons and taking one out. He downs several Advil, a couple lexapros, and a vistaril. Basically aiming to feel nothing. He quickly passes out on his bed, not even getting under the covers.

\- - - - - - - -

_Ding, dong_

He shifts, huffing when he realizes he sweat like a horse in his sleep. He's drowsy. He checks the time with his phone, running a hand over his face. It's 8 am. He huffs.

_Ding, dong_

Probably a mailman. Dropping off a package. He buries his head back into his pillows, still half asleep.

There's a knock at the door.

A moment of silence. Just long enough for him to slip back into unconsciousness.

_Ding-ding-ding-ding, dooong_

His eyes shoot open. He growls.

"Who the hell is up at 8 in the morning?" He huffs.

He really doesn't want to see anyone today. The only person he can tolerate, or even wants to see right now, is his older sister Cassidy. But she's all the way up in Savanah Georgia at college.

He gets a text. He glances at his phone. It's George.

_[G] You home?_

He leaves him on read, trying to go back asleep. He'd like to sleep as much of the day away as possible. That means less time having to deal with his terrible dysphoria and depression.

Another knock at the door. This time like it's the cops trying to break in. He groans, finally getting up. He yawns, stretching. Another ding-ding-ding-ding-ding, dong as he makes his way down the hallway and towards the door.

"I'm coming!" He growls, unlocking the front door.

He freezes when he sees who's standing on his front porch.

"Dream?"

He stares, slack-jawed, heart jumping. His blood seems to race through his veins, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. Goosebumps shooting up his spine.

The smile starts to slip from his perfect face. "Uh, hello? Dream?"

Dream quickly slams the door closed, leaning back against it.

_Holy shit holy shit._

"Fuck," he swears.

Why is he here? What the hell is he doing here? He can't be here. Not right now. Especially not right now. He runs a hand through his hair, anxiety shooting through the roof.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out. It's George. Again.

_[G] Dude wth?_

He scrapes his brain for an explanation. He just slammed the door in his face.

Suddenly he gets a text from Nick.

_[S] Is George at ur house?_

_[D] Yes_

_[S] WTH, so u slammed the door in his face?_

_[D] You knew he was coming?_

_[S] Well ya. How else would he know where u live?_

He runs a hand over his face. He feels betrayed.

_[S] He came to surprise u for ur birthday. U seriously just slammed the door in his face?_

_[D] Why didn't you tell me_

_[S] ...it was a SURPRISE._

_[D] He can't be here right now_

_[S] Why the hell not? R u just going to force him to fly all the way back to Britain? After he came all this way to see u? I thought ud be siked to see him._

Dream huffs. He would be. But right now is quite possibly the worst time for him to meet George.

George doesn't know. A good portion of them, the SMP boys, know what Dream looks like, a few know he's trans, and a good chunk of them know he has depression. That is, everyone but George. Because George can't know. Dream can't have him know. Because he's terrified of what he'll think.

He's had a crush on George for years now. And Nick knows that.

Nick's the only one who knows everything. He knows Dream likes George. He knows Dream's trans. He knows he has anxiety and depression and suffers from terrible dysphoria. So why the hell would he send George here? Without telling him first?

George can't know. Because if Dream does happen to have the slimmest chance with George, (which he knows he doesn't) him knowing he's trans would be a deal breaker for sure.

_[S] Dude seriously. Open the fucking door. Apologize to him. Say hi._

He's having an anxiety attack. Right now. Right here. On the tile floor of the entrance. Heart racing, tears, choking, impending doom. His fingers shake as he tries to type.

_[S] Clay seriously._

_[D] I cant._

_[S] Why not!_

_[D] I cant tell him_

_[S] U dont have to! Just bc hes here doesnt mean u have to spill ur life story and ur feelings._

_[D] He cant be here right now_

_[S] What the hell is ur problem? Seriously?_

He gets a text from George.

_[G] Dream seriously. I came here to see you. Are you going to open the door?_

He's wanted to meet him in person for so long. To hear his voice, without the barrier of microphones and radio waves. See his face without a screen in the way. Be able to touch him, hold him, god to at least just be by him.

But he can barely handle himself around George with all the barriers in the way. There's been too many times when a compliment or praise has slipped through his lips without his consent, forcing him to have to cover his ass. He's usually able to play it off as him just joking or being kind, but he knows if they could see his face they would know he means it; and more than just a friend. He's forced himself to pretend like it's not a big deal, when he's talking to George, so he can at least function like a normal human being. Even though just the thought of George is one of the top three things that constantly plague his mind. He's not sure he can handle it; seeing him in person. He's afraid he'll slip up. Won't be able to save himself this time. If George finds out, heaven forbid, if he shoots him down, Dream's certain it will be a kick to the gut, and he'll fall so far down the hole he's dug for himself that he won't be able to get back out again. He can't handle that kind of pressure, to keep his entire being in check; not now, especially not now. This is quite possibly the worst timing.

He texts Nick.

_[D] I'll pay for his ticket back._

_[S] Dude!_

_[D] I can't see him rn._

_[S] WTH! No! Open the fucking door! U r not sending him back! That's so rude!_

_[D] WTH am I suppose to say to him?_

_[S] Apologize for slamming the door in his face?!_

He huffs, trying to calm himself down. Breath in, breath out: that's what his therapist says. As if that nonsense actually works.

_[S] Seriously man. What's going on?_

_[D] I'm dealing with stuff. Mentally._

_[S] Let him help u._

Dream frowns. That sounds ridiculous. To dump all his mental shit on George the first time they meet each other? In person? Not a good first impression. Only more reason for George to shoot him down, when he inevitably slips up.

_[S] He's there for u, bro._

_[D] Yeah to tell me happy birthday, not to help me deal with my shit._

_[S] Oml. Dream. Uve known each other for over 5 years now. George won't care if ur not okay rn. He's there to be ur friend. Let him._

_[S] U absolutely CANNOT send him home_

_[D] I don't know if I can do this_

_[S] Yes u can. Just open the door. Say hi._

He bites his lip, knee bouncing in anticipation.

He tries to breath. The anxiety isn't going to go away. He's just going to have to push through it. As impossible as it is; force back an anxiety attack and keep every fiber of his being in check, while he's on the verge of mental break down. Success sounds improbable, but it's his only option.

Finally he manages to calm down enough to stand up. His hand shakes as he reaches for the door nob. He hesitates, biting his lip, heart racing. His arm seems to lock up, and he can't move. He feels like he's being chased; anxiety. His hand slips from the door.

_[D] I can't open the door_

_[S] Yes u can_

_[D] I can't_

_[S] Clay._

[ _S] am I going to have to call u? Give u a pep talk?_

_[D] No_

_[S] Then open the door. Be a gentleman._

And it's like somehow Nick just knows what to say. Wether it's intentional or not.

_"Be a gentleman"_

Implying he's not right now, a man.

He wipes stray tears. Takes a deep breath. Finally opens the door.

George is looking down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He looks up.

"Ah-" Dream starts, not sure what to say, eyes instinctively zoning in on his lips; a habit he's formed after watching George stream for hours on end. "Sorry about that. I uh- I don't know..."

George just blinks, briefly glancing him up and down. Dream's self consciousness shoots through the roof, causing him to stumble over his next words. He forces himself to meet his eyes.

"I-uh- you can c-come in."

"Are...you sure?" George asks.

And the hurt look on his face sends pangs through his chest. "Yes, yes, I'm sure." He quickly breathes out. "Please, come in."

George nods. Dream notices the duffle-bag that he picks up, and he swallows down a lump in his throat. He steps to the side, letting George come in. He bites his lip when he catches a whiff of his cologne, telling himself that it's fine; don't freak out.

George scans the living room, eyes landing on the big TV.

"Nice place." He says.

"Uh, y-yeah. Thanks. It's, pretty small." Still jittery.

"Modest." George smiles over his shoulder at him, "especially the TV."

Dream's knees nearly give out at the sight of his smile. It's so simple, and yet it has him swooning on his feet. "Uh- yeah" he breathes, eyes snapping back up from his smile to look at him. He finally gains a little bit of composure, "I'm a pretty humble person, wouldn't you say?"

George snorts.

There's a silence. Awkwardness filling the air.

A pang through his hips reminds him of everything he's trying to hide. He bites his lip.

"I uh- I gotta go to the bathroom. You can- make yourself at home. I'll show you around when I get back."

George nods, plopping down on the couch, and Dream chews on the inside of his cheek, disappearing into his bedroom. As soon as he shuts the door he takes a deep breath, nearly sliding down the door as he closes his eyes.

_I can do this. It's easy. Just act normal._

He scurries to clean up the mess of clothes and random crap on the floor. He packs his already full laundry basket, shoving it into his closet to hide it. He quickly makes his bed, and then weaves through the bathroom and into his office. He throws away stray trash, trying to tidy up his desk at least a little bit. Finally he decides it's good enough, and heads back into the bathroom.

When he sits down on the toilet he's greeted with bloody boxers.

He left the tampon in. Overnight.

Not something new for him. TSS never really scared him- he figured if it happened it happened. Save him the trouble of killing himself. He lived dangerously that way; if leaving in a tampon could be considered living on the wild side.

He opens the cabinet to find a new one, and hopefully a spare pair of boxers.

Instead he's reminded that all he has is pads. And the open box of tampons that he left on the dining room table, like an idiot.

He curses himself. Dread sinks in his stomach. How is he going to hide them without George seeing? And the chocolates and flowers and the fucking teddybear. What is George going to think of that?

_"Dream has a girlfriend?"_

Hell no. Thats the exact opposite of what he wants George to think. Then again that's better than him finding out the truth.

He swears. Back to the women's underwear. Back to a giant ass pad- yet another reminder that he's not really male. That he's living in the wrong body. A body that he hates.

He forces himself not to think about how incredibly insecure it's going to make him feel around George; wearing something as humiliating as a pad while he's suppose to be acting confident and smooth.

His next problem is hiding the trash can full of bloody period products. Dead giveaway if George has to use the bathroom. He decides to pull out the bag and put it in the cabinet with the rest of his stuff. He puts a new bag in the can.

He switches tank-tops, applying some much needed deodorant before pulling on a hoodie to hide his scars. He changes into a pair of dark jean shorts; basketball shorts don't hide pad outlines very well. He runs his hands through his messy dirty-blonde hair, frowning. He hasn't showered in at least a day, and he can't really remember the last time he properly washed his hair. It shows.

He decides to wet it in the sink, scrubbing his fingers through it and toweling it dry. It looks messy, but at least it looks cleaner.

He brushes his teeth, and then sprays some cologne.

For a brief moment he contemplates packing. It's tempting; might make him feel the least bit less insecure. But he ultimately decides against it, figuring it would be far more humiliating if something happened and then suddenly his "penis" was on the floor.

He sighs. He looks in the mirror.

_You're a guy. George doesn't know any different. You're a guy._

He tries to give himself a little more of a pep talk; _you can do this, just be normal, you're good at being pretend to be normal everyday, this is no different._

Finally he leaves his room. George is sitting kicked back on the couch, having turned on the TV and found soccer. He holds his phone in one hand, the other patting the couch next to him as he tries to get Patches to come over. His head turns when he hears Dream enter. He glances him up and down, obviously noticing he's changed.

Dream ignores the fact that he's thought about this exact moment at least a dozen times; having George in his house, sitting on the couch and watching TV like he lives here. Like they're together; like it's a normality.

"Took you long enough," he jokes.

It take a moment for Dream to recognize what he said, snapping himself from his daydreams. He smiles half heartedly. "Yeah. Had to clean my room. Wasn't expecting company."

George's eyebrows furrow slightly. "Yeah I uh...figured. Sorry about that."

"It's fine." He huffs, plopping down next to him and patting Patches. "It's nice to finally get to see you in person. Sorry about earlier. I uh- panicked. It was stupid."

George nods, "Yeah. It's alright."

There's an awkward silence. Dream watches as a guy makes a goal on the tv screen, peaking at George out of the corner of his eye. Patches sits down in his lap, making his eyes snap back to the television. She sniffs at the couch and George, as if she's contemplating how she feels about this new man. Dream smiles, petting her.

"Hey." George says, looking up at him.

He looks at him.

"Uh, surprise! Happy birthday!" He grins, pearly whites vibrant and making Dream's heart jump.

Dream smiles.

"Didn't get to say it earlier so..."

Dream scratches his neck. "Heh, yeah. Thanks."

"I got you a present."

He cocks an eyebrow. "You did? You didn't have to do that."

Because the truth is him being here is a present in of itself. Even if he's not in the right mindset to really have him here, and the fact that it threw him for a loop, and gave him an anxiety attack, having him here is still great. He's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"You're my best friend. Of course I got you a present." George says, getting off the couch to grab his duffle.

Dream leans forward, biting his lip as he watches him unzip the bag. Patches jumps down off his lap. George pulls out a box with silver and yellow wrapping paper. There's a light green bow.

"Did you wrap this?" Dream asks as he takes it. Despite being sort of small it's heavy.

George shrugs, kind of embarrassed. "Yeah, I did. The wrapping was suppose to be green, but I found out it's actually yellow, so..."

Dream laughs. "It is yellow. But you were close."

George sits back down next to him. "Open it."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now. When else?"

He shrugs. He undoes the bow, pulling off the ribbon. He carefully peels away the wrapping.

It's a black box. He glances at George, who just smiles.

He pulls the lid off the box.

Inside is a note, covering whatever is underneath.

_"Thanks for being such an amazing friend. I don't know where or who I'd be without you. I don't say it often, but I do love you. - love, George"_

He finds himself rereading it, to make sure he read that correctly; that his eyes aren't just playing tricks on him. He feels a warmth spread through his stomach, a smile ghosting his lips.

He knows he doesn't mean it in the same way as he does. And it hurts, to know that, but it still means a lot, regardless. George isn't one to dish out compliments or straight up admit feelings, so the note means a lot.

He glances up at George, and for a brief second he catches what he thinks is nervousness on his face, but it quickly disappears. George sends him a small smile. The words tumble out before he can really filter how much meaning he intends to put behind them.

"I love you too." It slips, wispy and breathless. Like he means it. Heat burns up his throat, and he bites down on his lip, hoping that George didn't catch the difference in inflection of his voice; that he doesn't realize that Dream means it more than a friend.

He smiles slightly, and then motions towards the box, telling him to continue; the moment flew right over his head. Dream takes a silent breath in relief, and sets the note off to the side, looking back down at the box.

There's an empty picture frame. He sends George a sideways glance, confused. George is biting his lip, watching Dream's hands. Dream's eyes dart away, but the image of his teeth lightly digging into his lower lip is already sealed in his brain, making his blood burn.

He pulls out the frame, telling himself to forget it (he knows he won't; only another moment to add to an ever-growing collection that keeps him wide awake at night). Underneath is a camera. A professional camera. The kind photographers use. There's another note.

_"To fill the frame."_

He gently pulls it out, inspecting it. It looks amazing. He looks through the scope, zooming with the lenses, looking out the living room window at the house across the street. His neighbor is taking out the trash. In crisp detail.

"How much was this?" He asks, lowering the camera to look back at him.

George shrugs, "Doesn't matter. Do you like it?"

"I love it."

George grins.

Dream snaps a picture of Patches, who sits on the love seat grooming her face.

"Is this, 4K?" He asks, examining the photo.

"Yeah," George answers, like it's no big deal. "It also records."

Dream lowers the camera, looking over at him. He's taken over by a sudden urge to hug him. Crush him close and never let him go. Inhale the smell of his hair, place his chin on his shoulder. It's something he's dreamt about for years now.

But George doesn't seem like the affectionate type. Not one for hugs or cuddles; not very touchy-touchy. Especially with a friend. And Dream's not much of one himself. But he's finding himself thinking that maybe it's okay; to let George think he is. Pretend like he is the affectionate sort, the one that gives hugs and will grab someone's hand to pull them along. Just so he can touch him.

Is that insane? Manipulative? Probably. And it would be weird, would it not? To hug him? Right now? Unprovoked?

George cocks an eyebrow, obviously wondering why he's staring. It pulls him from his thoughts, and he bites his lip.

He decides it's now or never. He sets down the camera, and reaches out, pulling him in. George hesitates, caught off guard. And then, carefully, he's hugging him back

A million butterflies explode in Dream's stomach. His heart soars, and he finds himself gripping him tighter, burying his face in his neck. Chest feeling light like he's inhaled helium.

"Thank you. For coming. And for the camera."

He had a terrible day yesterday, and despite still feeling down, George hugging him turns his entire world upside down; every thought and worry dissipating in thin air. He grips him tight, dopamine rushing through his veins.

"I-it's nothing," George says, obviously thrown off by just how close he is.

There's an awkward moment of silence, and Dream realizes he's probably held on for too long. Despite never wanting to ever let go, he pulls away. He offers a small smile, almost feeling like he should apologize for hugging him, but then decides he shouldn't. "I uh, I suppose I should show you around, huh?" He says.

George grins. Dream gets up, offering him a hand. George takes it, and he pulls him up off the couch. He shoots down the thought that pops up in his brain when the warmth of George's palm meets his. It's stupid how every little thing has him going crazy.

"Well. This is obviously the living room."

"Yes I see that."

Dream smiles. "And then back here's the dining room," he leads him farther back, his eyes skimming over the Walgreens bag as panic rushing through him. He continues, "and then the kitchen. And the door to the garage."

George nods, looking around. Dream bites his lip when George looks at the Walgreens bag.

"Who got you the flowers?" He asks, picking up the bouquet. Dream catches his glance in the bag, obvious confusion at the open box of tampons.

He glances over at him.

"Uh-my sister. She came to visit yesterday. She bought me and herself some stuff. I- didn't get around to putting stuff away."

_Nice save._

"Oh." His eyebrows furrow. "Is that why you left early yesterday? Why didn't you just say so?"

Dream bites his lip, shrugging. More lies it is.

"Well- she uh...she texted me and stuff, like, made it sound like, something was going on, and I didn't know wether I should tell you guys or not, or whatever- everything was fine she was just being...weird."

_A not-so-good save._

George slowly nods, not quite getting it.

Dream decides to pick up the bag to take with them. "She likes to keep stuff here incase she needs it whenever she's visiting," he says, trying to explain the tampons as he leads them into the bedroom.

"Yeah my sisters do that too. I'm not sure why. They're almost never at my flat."

Dream relaxes. A good excuse, then.

"So. This is my bedroom." He says, opening the door.

George smirks at the bedspread. "Nice." He says.

Dream flushes, forgetting he had his Minecraft covers on the bed. He scrambles for an excuse. "Ah, well, I- I do it for a living."

George shakes his head. "I may or may not have the same cover..."

Dream laughs, the nervousness releasing its grip on his stomach ever so slightly. He takes him through the bathroom to get to his office, setting the bag down on top of the cabinet.

"Bathroom," he says, opening the door to his office; the room he spends most of his time in.

"Woah," George says, looking around the black wood-paneled walls covered in fan-art and trinkets. He steps on the bright green Dream logo rug, checking out his gaming chair. "This is a cool ass set up." He says.

Dream shrugs. "Yeah. I spent a good amount of money on this room."

George laughs. "Yeah."

Dream catches him staring at something on the wall. He turns, and his blood runs cold.

"Is that, a pride flag?" George asks.

"Uh- I mean..." Dream struggles to find an answer.Yes? No?

He forgot he had that. And the trans and pan flags. How did he forget about those? He feels anxiety already building up in his chest.

George glances at him, an eyebrow cocked.

Dream remembers every time he would teasingly call George gay, and how George was always so quick to shut it down. He knows he's supportive of the community; they have plenty of other friends in the LGBTQ community, and George doesn't treat them any different. They've talked about it multiple times when the conversation came up. It's blatantly clear that it doesn't bother George. And yet the thought of coming out to him has Dream's mind reeling.

"I uh- I like rainbows." Dream says instead, playing absolutely stupid. He mentally curses himself afterwards; George is colorblind. He could have told him it was something else and he probably wouldn't know any better.

George smiles, "oh yeah? And the other two?"

Dream feels his entire body heat up in embarrassment. Is this the moment he has to come clean? He's not ready for that. But George is expecting an answer.

"They uh- they're- flags." He says, and he bites back his cringe at the wobble in his voice.

George snorts, "No shit," he looks at him. And Dream knows he's asking what they mean.

Dream's mouth is cotton dry. Not a lick of moisture.

"What's this one for?" George asks, pointing to the pan flag.

"That uh," he licks his lips, trying to find words. "It's uh- that's pan."

George cocks an eyebrow: _What is that?_

"Are you thirsty? I'm parched. Lets go get a drink." Dream asks, pointing towards the door. George starts to shake his head, but Dream is already leaving the room.

_That was pretty close._

For the rest of the day interacting becomes less and less awkward. It slowly gets easier for Dream to pretend like he's not absolutely head over heels in love with the guy in front of him, and interacting becomes smoother as his confidence steadily grows. He somehow finds it easy to be confident around him. Like he can just be himself, despite the many things he's keeping from him.

In a desire to go out and do something with him, George encourages Dream to take them somewhere. Dream settles on bowling, knowing the alley is usually pretty barren during the day, and the weather's not too great to do something outdoors.

George absolutely obliterates him. Almost every other ball of Dream's dies straight down into the gutter, meanwhile George seems to get spare after spare.

George jokingly offers to ask someone to put up the rails. Dream sends him a mean glare in response, making him giggle. Immediately after Dream throws another in the gutter, throwing George into a fit of endless laughter. He tries not to smile, because it is frustrating, but the sound of George's laughter makes it impossible not to. It makes him feel weightless, a warmth radiating inside his chest.

He finds himself staring at him, a goofy giant grin on his face. And he can't be bothered to look away, even after George has calmed down, brown eyes quizzically meeting his. He sighs, eyes finally dropping as he shakes his head, plopping back down into his seat at the table.

George finishes the game with his third strike of the day, spinning around with a smile. Dream rolls his eyes. George joins his side as he glances up at the score board.

"Well," he says, and Dream watches as he hesitates to place a hand on his shoulder. "Better luck next time piss boy."

A scoff leaves his lips, and George laughs. He offers him a hand to help him up after they've both removed their shoes, and Dream can't help but hold on for a little moment longer than necessary. It's a simple contact, but it means the world.

George is trying to reciprocate the same sort of contact that Dream's been giving him all night; finding any and every excuse to brush his hand or pat his back. And it nearly makes him feel dizzy with just how perfectly everything is going.

They order pizza when they get back home, binging movies on the couch. By the time it's dark outside they're both laughing hysterically and chowing down pizza, as if they've known each other their whole lives.

Around 9 George gets super sleepy.

"You gonna spend the night? I mean- I'm assuming you are."

George yawns. "Uh, yeah. My flight's in the morning."

Dream nods. George goes for another slice of pizza, trying to keep his eyes open. Dream can't help but grin. He's so incredibly cute when he's exhausted.

"The futon in the office turns into a bed. You can sleep there."

"That sounds good." He says.

Dream watches as the TV flickers over his face, eyes slowly slipping closed.

"Maybe we should hit the hay." He offers.

George's eyes snap back open, and he turns towards him. "What'd you say?"

Dream smiles, chuckling. "I said, why don't we get some rest?"

George starts to complain.

"Hey. You flew, what, nine hours to get here?"

"Eight." George corrects.

"Okay, eight- whatever. You're exhausted. Lets go to bed."

"But it's only like- 9:30," he complains.

"Yeah, 9:30 here. Probably, what, 1:30 your time?"

"...2:30."

"Exactly. So let's go to bed. Come on."

George finally gives in. Dream pulls him off the couch, once again hanging onto his hand for a moment longer.

Dream folds out the futon, giving him a pillow and a blanket. They end up brushing their teeth at the same time, squeezed in next to each other to spit in the sink. It makes George laugh, which only makes Dream smile, butterflies in his stomach for about the thousandth time that day.

George passes out on the futon fairly quickly.

By the time Dream plops down in bed he feels absolutely exhausted from keeping his guard up all day. And yet he can't help but stay wide awake, mind moving at a hundred miles per hour as his thoughts race over the day's events. Every thing he said and did. Second guessing and analyzing every little move.

Until he comes to the devastating conclusion that he'll never really have George. Not the way he wants. George will never love him like he wants him to.

And it hurts, _oh_ so much.

He only continues to spiral. Dark emotions swirling in his stomach. Fogging his mind. Twisting his thoughts. Insecurities flaring up like ugly monsters in the night. It just keeps escalating, winding farther and farther down the path of destruction till he's drowning in it all. Unable to breathe. Splayed out like a starfish on his bed, sweating as he gasps for air, tears streaming his cheeks.

And he just wants to end it all.


	2. Attempted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George finds out what Dream's been keeping from him. And in the worst way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//: blood, self harm, attempted suicide  
> (Also: drugs/pills, alcohol, panic)
> 
> Take care of yourselves <3

"Meow! Mow! Mow!"

George wakes up to a cat meowing and purring in his face, rubbing against him, whiskers tickling his cheeks. He gently pushes her away to sit up.

"Patches?" He says, touching the cat. She meows.

He pets her, and she pushes into him, kneading and meowing. George is surprised by her outburst. Prior to now, Patches has kept her distance from him, even scratching Dream when he held her to let George pet her.

He yawns, stretching. He needs to pee. He stands up, and Patches follows him, screaming at his heels. The bathroom light nearly blinds him when he opens the door. He glances over, registering his friend on the toilet.

"George," Dream groans.

"Oh! I'm sorry-" he says, turning to close the door.

But he stops.

_Blood._

George may be color blind, but he knows what blood looks like.

He reopens the door.

"Dream," he breathes, eyes flickering towards his arms.

A razor in his hand. Blood. Cuts along his wrists.

He rushes forward, grabbing his hand with the razor.

"Dream what the hell," he curses, heart pounding. 

He rips the razor from his fingers, tossing it in the trash. Dream pulls away from him, sluggish. He tries to cover himself.

George glances down, whether he means to or not. And his eye go wide, because _holy shit, that's **not** a penis._

He looks for longer than he means to; he stares. It's the strangest one he's ever seen- granted he hasn't seen all that many- but it's clear what it is. Dream pushes him away, trying to cover himself- _her_ self? George snaps out of his confusion, and instead looks around the bathroom. He yanks the bath towel off it's hook, throwing it over Dream.

Dream quickly covers himself, trying to hide his arms. "George," he whimpers, body shaking.

George grabs the toilet paper, taking Dream's fist to pull his arm away from his body.

"Dream please," he pleads, inspecting his arm. The cuts are deep.

There's so much blood. He desperately tries to cover his arms, wrapping him in toilet paper like he's a mummy.

"George please," he pleads, "stop."

When Sapnap had texted him, telling him that Dream wasn't feeling well, mentally, George didn't think he meant like this.

"Dream," he breathes, clutching his arms to apply pressure. "What-What happened?"

Dream only shakes his head. George captures his face, pulling his eyes open. They look glazed over.

"Dream what are you on," he asks.

Tears run down his face, and all he does is mumble out "I'm sorry" between cries.

George feels his own tears forcing their way forward. A cold sweat has broken out across his skin, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Heart pounding loud in his ears. He can barely think, because holy shit what is happening? Should he call an ambulance? He can't drive to the hospital. He doesn't have an American license. Dream obviously can't drive, not like this. Does he even need a hospital?

George glances over him. That's a stupid question. Of course he does. He's bleeding out. 

"Dream, listen to me," he says, voice croaking, "tell me what happened, please."

Dream only shakes his head, tears streaming his cheeks, "I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm getting help." George says, standing up.

"No!" Dream bellows, "please no," he cries.

George hesitates to leave him, scared of what will happen if he's not here. He quickly bolts into the office, grabbing his phone. He dials Sapnap, placing him on speaker. He rushes back to the bathroom, crouching down in-front of Dream, grasping his wrist to apply pressure.

Sapnap doesn't pick up.

George tries him again, tears running down his face. Dream leans forward, head touching his knees, leaning against George's hands.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, "please, don't hate me."

George frowns, leaning his head against Dreams, squeezing his wrists tight. "I don't hate you," he says, voice cracking as he tries not to cry.

The truth is far from it.

Sapnap finally answers.

"George, it's almost 3 am what the hell are you doing calling me? I have school tomorrow."

"Dream-" he starts, pausing. He's not sure where to start. How does he go about explaining this situation?

"Clay's- he's- I-" he can't help but cry, absolutely terrified. He doesn't usually use his real name, but it feels wrong to not use it in this instance.

"George what's going on?"

"Clay's- I don't know- he's cut himself."

"He what?"

"There's so much blood, Nick." He gasps.

He can't lose him. Not like this. He leans his head into Dream's, eyes squeezing closed.

" _Fuck_." Nick swears over the phone.

"I don't know what to do," he whimpers.

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes. He's conscious."

"How conscious?"

"I- I don't know. He's acting weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like- like he's on drugs, I don't-"

"Are his bottles empty?"

"His- his what?"

"The pills, George! Are there any left?"

"What- I don't-"

"He keeps them in his bedroom. The nightstand, I think," he says.

"I- can I leave him? I don't-" He left him before but only briefly; he knew where his phone was. He has no clue what he's really looking for, and he's afraid to take pressure off his wrists for too long. 

Dream clutches him, pulling him closer. "Don't leave me," he cries, "please. I'm so sorry."

"You have to, George. You'll be quick."

He hesitates. He pulls away from Dream, who protests. He rushes into his bedroom. The bottles are laid out on the bed, left open. Pills spilled out onto the covers.

"It looks like he took some, but I don't know how many."

"You're going to have to get him to throw up."

"What?"

"Make him puke, George!"

"H-how?"

"I- I don't know? Put your fingers down his throat?"

George closes his eyes.

_What the hell is going on?_

He pushes his way back into the bathroom. Dream is still slumped over on the toilet, crying. George places the phone on top of the cabinet. He can't get him off the toilet, so he'll have to find something else. The trash can. He pulls it over. He forces Dream to sit up, setting the trash can in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he breathes.

Dream meets his eyes, and George hesitates. Is he really going to do this?

"George you have to make him throw up the pills." Sapnap says through the phone.

George curses. Dream shakes his head. George grabs his chin, shifting to try and get leverage. Dream clenches his teeth, trying to pull away.

George huffs. "Clay, _please_ ," he pleads, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dream keeps his jaw clenched, and George knows he doesn't have time to spare. He does it before he can even think it through. He's not sure it will even work. But he does it anyways. Because what if this is his last chance? Can he really live without doing so?

He takes his chin, leaning in to capture his lips. George immediately recognizes the taste of alcohol. He can't believe he didn't smell it earlier. His heart clenches when Dream kisses him back, his blood racing. And for a brief moment he doesn't want to ever pull away.

This isn't how this was suppose to happen; this wasn't suppose to be how they had their first kiss. George had imagined they'd be on a Florida beach, watching the sunset. Dream would look over at him, a smile on his face. And they'd just drift closer. Or maybe they'd be in London. On George's couch in his flat, watching a movie. The clock would read midnight, and as the credits would start to roll, he'd look over at him. In a burst of confidence; cup his cheek, and pull him in.

But definitely not like this. In Dream's bathroom at four in the morning. Wrists gushing blood. And certainly not for the same reasons; he should be kissing him to kiss him, not to try and save him.

_This is so messed up._

He pulls away, quickly sliding his fingers into his mouth, going as far back as he can and pressing down on the back of his tongue. Dream immediately wretches, body heaving. George pulls his hand away as Dream pukes into the trash can.

"Did he puke anything up?" Sapnap's voice comes through the phone.

George can't believe everything that's happening right now.

But it looks like he has. He sees several capsules, most half-dissolved.

He sighs in relief. "I see some. They look like he took them not too long ago."

"But he's still acting drugged?"

"He's drunk." George breathes. It's only now that he sees the half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor, still open.

Sapnap curses on the other end of the phone. George grabs the cup sitting on the sink, filling it with water. He holds it to Dream's lips, forcing him to drink. Dream sputters, and George sets it down. He looks pale, sweat collecting on his brow. He gently takes one of Dream's arms, unwrapping his quick toilet paper job. He's still bleeding. He's going to need stitches. That George can tell.

He tries to calm down, taking a deep breath. He crouches back down, re-clutching Dream's wrists. 

"I need to take him to the hospital. He's still bleeding. He doesn't look good." He tells Sapnap.

Sapnap sighs. "I'm booking a flight over there right now. Keep me updated."

"I will." He says. He reaches to hang up the phone, setting it on the floor.

"Dream," he breathes, "I need you to get off the toilet."

He shakes his head.

"Dream please, I'm trying to help you."

"I don't want help," he whimpers.

"Dream, _please_."

"Just let me go, George. Please."

"Hell no," he says, heart breaking. "Clay, _look at me_." He growls.

Dream tenses at his name, but looks up, eyes tear-stained. George takes his face in his hands. He has blood on his hands from clutching at his wrists, accidentally brushing it across his cheeks.

"I cannot let you go, do you understand? I need you, Dream. I need my best friend."

"I hate myself," he hisses, like it's even painful just to say.

George frowns. He doesn't know what to tell him. "You're getting off the toilet." He says instead.

"No." He mumbles, pleads under his breath.

George pulls on his hands, standing up to try and pull him off the toilet. Dream groans, a loud cry leaving his lips.

" _Stop_ ," he cries.

George stops. He sighs, leaning over.

"I-I'm bleeding," Dream whimpers.

"Yes I _know_ that! You cut yourself!" George snaps at him. He immediately regrets it.

Dream shakes his head. "No- I-" he takes a shaky breath. "I- my period-" he breathes, sounding defeated.

George just stands there, looking at him. He looks so ragged. So the opposite of the man he convinced himself Dream was.

This isn't the same person who plays Minecraft with him. It's not the same person who's so incredibly smart about game mechanics that he can beat 5 players who are hunting him down. It's not the same person who's laugh gives him butterflies. It's not the same person who's confident and cocky behavior makes George swoon. Because he's more than just that. Dream is more complex than the Minecraft persona he keeps. He has a closet full of skeletons.

"Your period," George repeats.

Dream is silent, staring at the towel covering him. George had seen what he thought was blood in the toilet, but he assumed it was from his arms.

He bites his lip. "Is...can I...help you?"

Dream looks up at him, he looks like he's lost everything. Beyond embarrassed. Beyond humiliated. He motions towards the cabinet, and George bites his lip. He pulls it open. He sees the box of tampons from earlier, and things start clicking into place.

They weren't for his sister.

He grabs a pad, looking back at Dream, who's eyes are glazed over.

"I don't-" he starts, licking his lips. Dream just stares at him, tears running down his cheeks.

He finds a flap, pulling on it. It opens like a slice of American cheese. He finds directions on a paper. He glances up at Dream, who covers his face with his hands: Horrified.

"Do you-" George starts, but realizes he's not going to get an answer.

So he does it himself, following the directions. This is by far the most intimate and strangest thing he's ever done: putting a pad in his friend's underwear.

"Right. Okay." He says. "Now I need you to get off the toilet."

Dream groans, body still shaking. He's losing more color. George sighs, grabbing his hands again. He pulls him up, looking away as Dream finally pulls up his pants. George flushes the toilet, shuffling Dream to sit against the wall. He picks up the phone, dialing 999.

He curses when he remembers this isn't England.

"Emergency- Dream, what's emergency?"

Dream shakes his head.

George quickly searches google.

911.

He dials it immediately.

"This is 911. What is your emergency?"

George sighs in relief. _Help._

"My friend- he- I think he tried to kill himself."

\- - - - - - - -

George's woken up by a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

"Mr. Davidson?"

He jumps awake, eyes shooting open.

Hospital. Emergency room. There's a doctor in front of him.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Your friend is awake."

George stands up, but the doctor stops him.

"They took a lot a drugs. We had to pump their stomach."

George frowns. "But he's okay?"

She nods. "Yes. They'll be okay."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, but first we need you to talk to psych."

George sighs. "I already talked to someone from Psych. Told them everything I know, which was basically nothing." He grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The doctor frowns. "You already talked to someone?"

"Yes."

She checks her chart. Sighs. "Right. Sorry. It says that right here, sorry." She looks up, and George can tell she's been run ragged. "I'll have a nurse come update you in a little bit on all of that. Come with me."

George follows the doctor through the emergency room towards ICU. The moment he sees him through the door the tightness in his chest eases. There's a nurse taking vitals when they walk in. Dream's face flushes when he sees George. George immediately wraps him in a hug, tears threatening to fall.

"Never do that to me ever again, do you understand?" He says, pulling away to meet his eyes.

Dream frowns. "I'm so sorry." His voice is hoarse. He looks like he's on death's bed, dark circles under his eyes, skin pale.

The nurse hurries up and leaves with the doctor, leaving them alone.

"You scared me." He breathes, taking a seat on the chair next to the bed.

Dream swallows. "Why did you come into the bathroom?" He croaks.

George frowns. "Well Patches woke me up screaming. And then I had to pee."

Dream shakes his head.

There's a silence.

"I'm sorry." Dream starts again. "I didn't mean to do that to you. I couldn't..." he takes a heavy breath, "take it anymore."

George grabs his hand, hesitation from yesterday completely gone. "Take what?" He whispers.

Dream meets his gaze. It's obvious he's still drugged, and probably still drunk, just by the way words fall out of his mouth. "I was born in the wrong fucking body."

George frowns. And it's only now that it really hits him.

Dream is female. Or- has female parts. At least that's what he thinks he saw in the bathroom. But as far as George knows, Dream is a guy. That's all he's ever known.

And it's sort of scary, how his best friend has this hidden part of his identity. Almost like he's not who he says he is. Then again until yesterday George didn't even know what he looked like. So to say his identity was hidden, is an understatement. He guesses in a way, nothing's really changed.

"That shit really fucks with your head." Dream continues, head titling to look up at the ceiling. George watches as a tear slips down his cheek.

It hurts to hear him say it. Because George can hear the resentment in his voice. He can see in his eyes how much he hates it. How much it bothers him.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" He asks. He's not entirely sure whether or not now's a good time to have this conversation with him, considering he's inebriated, but George wants answers.

He shakes his head. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to lose you." He looks back over at him, another tear rolling down his cheek, an over exaggerated frown on his lips, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"Dream," he breathes. "Dream you're my best friend. You'd have to do a lot to get rid of me." He squeezes his hand.

Dream shakes his head. "You don't know how many people have told me that."

George sighs. "What do you want me to do?" He asks.

"What do you mean?" His eyebrows furrow, head lolling to look back over at him.

"How- how do you want me to...treat you? Call you?" It's probably a stupid question. If Dream wanted him to treat him differently than how he has been, he would have said something a long time ago. Knowing what he knows now probably doesn't change things. 

"I'm still Dream." He mutters, "He, him. Same old same old."

George smiles slightly, looking down. He nods. "Okay."

\- - - - - - - - - -

He huffs. "You know, it's kind of hard to fall asleep when you're staring at me." He says.

"Right. Sorry." George glances away.

Dream sighs. "George. You're exhausted. Go to bed."

George doesn't say anything. His silhouette stares at the floor. Dream sighs, running a hand over his face.

"Then go wake up Nick. Have him babysit."

George is silent.

"George?"

He huffs, shifting to turn on the light by his bed side. George turns away from him as soon as the light turns on.

"George." Dream says.

He shakes his head. "I'm fine. Just- go back to sleep."

"I never fell asleep."

"Yes you did. You were snoring."

_Okay, so maybe he had fallen asleep, for a little bit._

He sighs. He pulls back the covers, standing up. He touches George's shoulder. Suddenly his shoulders shake, and he turns, wrapping him in a hug. Dream blinks, not expecting him to cry, or hug him. He hugs him back, hesitantly resting his head on top of his.

"I thought I lost you." He cries.

"I'm sorry." Dream whispers. The sound of his cries makes his own throat tense with emotion. It makes his chest feel heavy and tight. He doesn't want him to be sad.

George clutches him tight. "Never fucking do that again."

He bites his lip. He can't make him that promise. "Okay." Is what he says instead.

He was released from the hospital a day ago, after being held in the psych ward for a couple days. It had been absolute hell being stuck in there; he didn't have positive experiences with mental institutions. They often made things worse. It makes his skin crawl just thinking about it. He's still trying to get out the dark mindset that that sort of place puts him in.

Nick flew in from Huston the night of, and both him and George have refused to go home. Dream's house has basically become a bachelors pad. This isn't the first time Nick has done this for him. He's come to visit several times, and to say he's had a similar experience as George would be accurate. However this is George's first rodeo. And it's hitting him hard. Then again, Dream had not tried that hard before. Prior attempts had been faulty and only half-attempts.

That, and the entire ordeal with George was an absolute catastrophe. It's not the way he wanted George to find out, about any of it. It makes his gut twist just thinking about how incredibly humiliating the entire experience was. Just the fluttering thought of the events of that night drags him back down a dark hole, one he's desperately trying to clamor out of. Their interactions since have been strained, like the wound is still fresh, and they're skating on thin ice.

Not to mention the kiss.

Just the thought of it makes Dream's face flush. He can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop imagining it happening again. George's perfect lips on his-

_Stop_

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not sure how many times he can apologize.

George hangs onto him, unable to let go. Dream can't particularly complain. It's giving him an excuse to hold him close. Inhale his scent.

The offer is on the tip of his tongue, but he's not sure whether it's appropriate or not. He's not sure how George would take it. Especially with where they're at currently; on undiscovered ground. And he's not sure which way things could go. But He finds himself offering it anyways.

"You could...stay, if you wanted. Like...sleep in here."

George pulls away, just enough to look up at him. Dream can't help but glance down at his perfect lips, their kiss, once again, crossing his mind for the millionth time. He's certain it didn't mean anything. It was just George's (effective) tactic to get him to open his mouth. At least that's what he keeps trying to tell himself, in an attempt to stop obsessing over it (so far, not an effective strategy).

"Like- in...your bed?" George asks.

Dream's heart jumps in his chest. He fights off the blush trying to creep up his cheeks at the implications that that proposition brings. _Yes, exactly like that._

"Uh, y-yeah."

"Where...would you sleep?"

Dream assumed that was obvious. Evidently it wasn't. "In...my bed," he cocks an eyebrow.

"Oh."

"Like a real sleepover." Dream says, trying to make it sound less weird. Less like he's inviting him into his bed and more like he's allowing him to crash in his bed.

"Right." George nods.

They stand there for a few moments, and then finally George pulls away. For a brief moment Dream misses his embrace, but he pushes it off. George jumps back to plop down on the bed like a starfish, a small smile growing on his face.

And just the sight of him on his bed has his mind conjuring up all the possibilities; reminding him of fantasy's he's held in the past, in which George is sprawled out on his bed. He quickly shakes those thoughts away, clearing his throat.

George scoots over, giving him room to sit.

"I'm warning you now. I'm a cuddler." Dream grins.

George's cheeks dust pink, but he smiles, cocking an eyebrow. "Oh really?"


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small argument makes Dream realize that George was far more effected by the other night than he initially thought. In an attempt to make it up to him, Dream tells him (almost) everything. And in turn, George makes a confession that gives Dream a little hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//: anxiety attack & mentions of: child abuse, self harm, self hatred/depression, transphobia, homophobia, dysphoria.  
> (Also swearing, arguing, and difficulty taking medication)

His eyes flicker open. Sunlight streams in through the window, lighting up the living room. He stretches, yawning.

And then he realizes. George never woke him up in the middle of the night to switch. Did he fall asleep?

He jumps up, yanking back the blanket and rushing towards the bedroom, flinging open the door.

He stops.

They're both sleeping.

It's a full California king (because Dream's so tall he needs the leg room), and yet they're both curled up on the far right side of the bed. Dream lays on his back, left arm laying above his head. He's laying quite literally up against the edge of the bed, right arm dangling off the side. George's head is rested in his armpit, mouth open as he snores softly. His right arm is laid across Dream's torso, hand hanging limp off the side of the bed. To top it all off, Patches is curled up on top of Dream's chest, covering the view of his face.

He has to take a photo. _Has_ to. He'll never let either of them live this down.

He bites his lip, debating whether he should wake them up or leave them be. His stomach growls, and he decides he'd rather get something to eat than mess with them.

\- - - - - - -

Dream wakes up to the smell of bacon. His eyes shoot open. Patches is on his chest, where she usually sleeps. He's also on the edge of the bed; any farther and he'd be falling off. And then there's George. His head tucked in Dream's armpit, drooling on his tank top.

Dream's heart immediately starts racing in his chest. This isn't what he was expecting. His heart feels like it's blooming in his chest, and he can't help but grin like and idiot. He lets himself just soak in the moment; a moment he'll never have again.

He wishes he could wake up every morning like this. He would kill to stay like this forever.

Patches stands up, stretching. Dream watches as she sits back down on his chest, reaching out to lick at George. He laughs as she tries to groom his hair. George's eyebrows furrow, and then he jerks away, eyes snapping open.

"What the-" he starts.

"Patches was cleaning you," Dream laughs.

George's eyes flicker around them, taking in their surroundings. His cheeks flush when he realizes how close they are, and he quickly pulls away, sitting up. Dream's stomach drops, wishing he would have stayed at least a little longer. It hurts to see him so quick to pull away, like he's afraid to touch him.

"Sorry," he whispers, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"You're good." Dream says. He bites his lip, debating whether he should say it. He decides he might as well. "I might have enjoyed it," he winks, sending him a smirk.

George blushes even more, scoffing and rolling his eyes. He reaches out to pet Patches.

"I think she likes me now." He yawns.

"Yeah." Dream breathes, scratching her chin.

Suddenly George stops. "Is that...bacon?"

"I think Nick's making breakfast."

George blinks. "Can he even cook?"

Dream chuckles. "I guess we'll find out."

George slides out of the bed, stretching. Dream picks up Patches so he can get up, pulling the covers back. She purrs.

"What day is it?"

George checks his watch. "Sunday," he yawns.

"Food day!" Dream smiles, scratching Patches under the chin.

"What?"

"Patches gets soft food on Sunday." He explains, opening the door. George sends him a small smile in thanks, and walks out. Dream follows.

"Oh look! The couple is awake! Enjoy your night?" Nick grins as they walk into the dining room.

Dream catches George's face as he flushes red. He's so easily embarrassed. It makes Dream smile every time.

"George is a bed hog, but I think we had fun, right George?" Dream grins, sending him a flirtatious wink.

George rolls his eyes, blushing all the way down his neck. Nick makes fun of him, and George playfully shoves him. Patches starts meowing like crazy when she realizes she's getting food.

"What's for breakfast?" George asks.

"Chicken liver," Dream responds, reading the cat food label.

" _Gross_ ," Nick says as George's nose scrunches up. "I made omelets."

"Sounds better than chicken liver." George remarks, grabbing a plate.

"Let's hope so," Dream mutters, placing Patches' bowl down, finally getting her to stop screaming.

"Hey!" Nick spins around, pointing his spatula at him. "I'll have you know I've been working on my cooking skills!"

Dream nods, watching as he turns back around to continue cooking. He stifles a chuckle when Nick goes to flip the omelet and instead spills it across the electric stove top. Nick curses.

"Yeah, I see that." Dream remarks. "I think I'll have cereal."

"The milk's bad. And I already made you one." Nick sighs.

"It's actually pretty good." George calls from the table.

"Why thank you." Nick says, smiling.

Dream just chuckles, pushing bread down the toaster. Nick clicks off the stove, grabbing paper towels to try and clean up his mess. He hisses.

"What?"

"Burned myself."

"Well why'd you do that?"

Nick shoots him a glare. "You better eat your omelette."

"Or?"

"Or I'll post the picture I took of you two this morning."

Dream laughs. "I dare you." He knows he wouldn't.

Nick just smiles, cleaning up his mess. "It would go viral."

"Yeah I bet."

Dream slides in next to George at the table, who just stares at his plate. There seems to be something on his mind. He nudges him. He jumps, shaking his head.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"You good?"

George bites his lip, glancing across Dream's face. He looks away. "Yeah, I'm fine." He says.

Dream frowns. That's obviously a lie. Something's bothering him. He decides he'll mention it later. His toast pops up from the toaster before he can take a bite of his omlete. He sighs, getting up to butter it. George follows, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge.

"Oh, by the way," Nick says, cracking a new egg. "Got your meds." 

Dream stops buttering his toast to send him a look. Nick motions to the counter, and Dream eyes fall upon the five pills sitting on the granite countertop. He feels his throat go dry.

"Me and George hid them while you were gone. Forgot to give them to you yesterday. Sorry about that. You probably could've used them..." 

Dream takes a heavy breath. The boys had spent the past couple days trying their best to "suicide proof" the house. Locking up alcohol. Stashing away sharp objects. Hiding his meds so he can't overdose. Throwing out old prescriptions that he's only kept around because he knows they fuck him up. 

He rarely ever even takes his meds when he's suppose to. Sometimes he just hates how they make him feel. Other times he hates how he feels without them more. Either way, he can't really remember the last time he properly medicated himself. Maybe if he did he'd have less problems. Sometimes he just wishes he didn't need them to begin with. They only serve as a reminder that he has problems. His therapist always tries to tell him that he's not the only one with his problems; most people take medication everyday, for a variety of reasons. But that doesn't stop him from feeling terrible at the fact that he can never just be _normal_. That he can't just exist without his mind trying to sabotage itself.

He huffs, setting down the butter knife. He bites his lip, staring at the dull blade. A butter knife doesn't do shit. He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm going pee." He announces, leaving his half buttered toast on the counter. He just needs some space. For at least a moment.

He hears George set his cup of orange juice on the counter, and he knows he's right behind him.

"Jesus George, back off a little, would ya?" He says, glancing behind him. He tries to play it off like he's just teasing, but George seems to take it to heart.

"Back off? _Really_?"

"Uh, Yeah. You're being kind of clingy."

" _Excuse_ me?" George snaps, and Dream turns around to face him, hand on the doorknob to the bathroom. "Can you really blame me?"

"Well you could at least give me _some_ privacy!" He frowns.

"You lost your privacy the moment you tried to fucking kill yourself!" He shouts, tears already swelling in his eyes.

Dream is left speechless. Nick is already coming over, laying his hands on their shoulders.

"Hey guys, lets just- calm down-"

George shrugs him off, stepping away. "How the _bloody hell_ am I suppose to calm down? You tried to _kill yourself_! You were just going to let me handle that? Wake up and my best friend is _dead_? Explain to his parents what the hell happened?!"

Guilt immediately pools in Dream's stomach. He hadn't intended for it to happen like this. He didn't think about George when he did it. He didn't think about the consequences. And it hurts to know that he's put him through this much pain. Yeah, it was obvious that it effected him, especially considering their heart-to-heart from last night, where George was in tears, but he guesses he thought that was the extent of it. Apparently he was wrong.

"George," Nick snaps, this time gripping his shoulder. "Chill."

George shoves him off, tears swelling in his eyes. "Fuck off," he says, turning for the front door. He slams the door closed behind him.

They both stand in silence, staring at the door.

"Fuck." Dream curses. That escalated _so_ quickly.

Nick rushes to the window. "Where the hell is he going?"

Dream runs his hands over his face, sighing. He feels like shit.

"He didn't mean that Dream-"

"Shut _up_ , Nick." Dream groans.

Nick goes quiet. Dream squeezes his eyes closed. He did fuck up. George is right. He has every reason to be pissed with him, and rightfully so. If it was possible, his heart would be absolutely shredded. If the urge to cut was strong earlier, then he's not sure what to call the feeling now.

"Right. Okay." He says, opening his eyes.

Nick is looking at him, biting his lip. "Clay." he breathes.

"It's fine, Nick. I'm fine- I'll be fine." He says. "I'm getting dressed." He turns, closing his bedroom door behind him.

"...do you...want to talk about it?" Nick asks from the other side as Dream is pulling on a pair of ripped shorts.

"Later." He answers, throwing on one of his only t-shirts. Ditching his usual sweatshirt. There's no use in hiding anything anymore.

He goes to the bathroom. Pees. Brushes his teeth. Puts on some deodorant. Cologne. Runs a brush through his hair. Tries not to let himself dwell on the dark emotions swirling in the back of his mind, threatening to crash over him and pull him back down.

Nick jumps back when he opens the door. He glances him up and down as he passes. He cocks an eyebrow, silently asking him what's going on. Dream ignores him. He picks up his plate off the table on his way to the kitchen counter. He quickly finishes buttering his toast. He cuts his omelet in half and sandwiches it between his toast, throwing it all in the microwave for a quick 15 seconds. 

"What are you doing?" Nick finally asks.

"Going after him." He says, pulling the plate out of the microwave. 

Nick frowns. "Meds, first." He says, scooping them up off the counter.

Dream sighs. As much as he doesn't want to, he really doesn't want to argue with him. 

"Fine." he huffs, taking them from him. He chucks them back, dry swallowing. 

Nick cringes. "Jesus." he mumbles.

Dream takes a bite of his sandwich, swallowing and forcing the lump in his throat down. He grabs his keys. "Not sure when we'll be back. Password on the computer's frenchtoast12, all lowercase. Email your professors. Get your work done." He tells him as he pulls open the door to the garage, hitting the garage opener on the wall. He blocks Patches from escaping with his foot before squeezing out the door with a "See ya later." He closes the door before Nick can respond.

He slides behind the wheel of the lime challenger, turning the key over and sighing as the engine roars to life. He slides on his Ray-bans before glancing over his shoulder as he backs up into the driveway. George couldn't have gone very far. It takes him a few minuets of cruising around the neighborhood before he finally finds him. He's walking with his head down, staring at the sidewalk.

He rolls down the window. "George!" He shouts.

George jumps, glancing around before he sees him. He rolls his eyes.

"Didn't you want space?" He snaps, continuing down the sidewalk.

Dream sighs, letting up off the break to roll forward. "George."

"Leave me alone." George says.

"C'mon George. Let me apologize?" Dream pleads, glancing at the road. He curses under his breath, quickly veering to avoid the parked car in his way

"You already have. Several times."

And he's not wrong. "All I said was sorry. That's not a real apology."

George is silent.

"George please get in the car." He pleads, veering again so he doesn't hit another parked car.

George ignores him.

"George seriously. I want to talk."

"Well I don't!" George shouts back.

Dream huffs, pulling over. He throws the car into park, killing the engine. He leaves his half eaten sandwich on the armrest, getting out of the car. He jogs to try and catch up with him. George groans when he stops next to him.

"George please."

"I don't want to talk to you right now!" George snaps at him.

Dream bites his lip. "Then don't. Just- please get in the car."

George shakes his head. There's a silence.

"I want to take you somewhere." He breathes.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you."

Dream sighs, running a hand over his face. That hurts.

"Just- leave me alone."

"I can't."

"And why not?"

"You're my friend."

"That's- stupid logic."

"Well...I want to talk to you. I've got issues. And... I still haven't really told you. You're my friend. You deserve to know."

"Yeah? And how many of our other friends already know?"

Dream sighs. "George I can explain, if you'd just get in the car-"

"I don't want to get in the car!" He bellows, spinning around to face him.

There's a moment of silence as they just stare at each other. George's eyes are still red, like he's still been crying. His jaw clenched tight.

"Fine," Dream breathes, feeling defeated. "Then I'll tell you here."

George groans, turning away.

"My father use to beat me." He blurts, standing in place. It comes out before he can even process what he was going to say; out before he even thought of it. It feels like the wind has gotten knocked out of him. It's been a long time since he's said it. "No body else knows about that." He breathes.

George falters. And then, "Don't give me your sob story. I don't want to hear it."

Dream grimaces. It's like a punch to the gut. He might as well have wrenched his heart out. He knows he's just trying to get him to leave, saying hurtful things just to make him stop. But it still hurts.

"George please." He begs. "I'm trying to tell you something important."

"Yeah and I don't want to hear it!" He shouts, turning around, arms stretched out. He pauses when he meets Dream's eyes.

"George you can't just push me away."

George drops his hands.

"Please get in the car." Dream whispers.

George hesitates. And then finally, "Fine."

Dream feels a weight pushed off his shoulders. But then he realizes this means he does have to come clean.

George practically drags his feet on his way back to the car. Dream opens the door for him, and George barely whispers a thank you.

He stares out the window for most of the drive. They sit in a tense silence. It's almost suffocating, but Dream can't think of anything to say to break it. They're on highway 192 when George finally speaks up.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier," he whispers.

"I know you didn't."

The silence resumes. Dream's mind starts to race. He's always hated silence. It lets him think. And often when he thinks, it never leads to anything good.

"I'm sorry," George says, voice breaking. "Please don't- don't hurt yourself because of me," he breathes, desperately trying to wipe his tears.

Dream frowns, glancing over at him.

"Hey hey," he says, reaching over to grasp one of his hands; not even thinking twice about making contact with him. "It's okay."

"No it's not," George cries, "I told a suicidal person I don't care about their issues- I didn't mean that-"

"I know you didn't George."

"I'm sorry," he sobs.

Dream pulls over into a parking lot, parking the car. George is a blubbering mess. It makes Dream's heart race, anxiety building up in his throat. It makes him anxious to see him crying. To see him upset. He sighs, reaching across the console to open the glove box, pulling out tissues. He has to forcefully put them in George's hand.

"George I know- I know you didn't mean it, it's okay." He tries to calm him down, biting his lip.

"I shouldn't have said that-" he starts.

Dream sighs. He briefly debates it in his head, and then reaches forward, pulling him into a hug. George grips him tight, hands fisting his shirt. And it makes Dream's heart clench.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers into his shoulder, tears wetting his shirt.

"It's okay. I've already forgiven you."

George sighs, sniffling when he finally starts to calm down. George eventually slips away, to Dream's disappointment, If he had his way he'd never let him go. But he's relieved that he's at least not crying anymore.

There's a silence between them.

And then: "Why do you do it?"

Dream glances at him. He's staring at his still bandaged arms.

"Cut, you mean?"

George nods, eyes flickering up to meet his.

Dream sighs. "Uh, several reasons, l guess." He tries to figure out where to start. "Uhm...it makes the pain real. Less mental and more physical. Easier to deal with it that way, I guess. Gets your blood pumping, adrenaline running- takes away the stress."

George bites his lip. And for split second Dream is distracted, mind floating back to their kiss. He pulls himself back out, looking away.

"And uh...sort of like, simulating me killing myself. Instead of actually doing it. Because...I guess most of the time I want to die, but not really. If that makes any sense."

His eyebrows furrow. "Are you scared to die?"

"Fucking terrified. But sometimes I hate myself more."

"Why?" He whispers.

"Why what?" Dream asks.

"Why do you hate yourself so much?"

And this time he maintains eye contact, like he's actually curious (not that he wasn't before). He wants a real answer.

Dream bites his lip. Because it's a good question. Why does he hate himself? "I guess..." he takes a shaky sigh, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I uh...my dad, probably."

"You said he beat you?"

"Yeah. Hit me if I acted like a Tom boy. I hated him. So I think I just...grew to hate myself, because he made it seem like it was my fault, for him hurting me."

There's another silence.

"I'm sorry." George apologizes.

Dream just sends him a sad smile. "That and, the whole 'born in the wrong body' thing, or, wrong gender, or whatever. Hate my ass, hate my thighs, hate my...everything." He sighs.

He just barely thinks he hears George whisper an "I don't".

"What'd you say?" He asks, heart jumping ever so slightly.

"Nothing," George says, flushing bright red. He looks out the window, avoiding eye contact.

Dream bites his lip, unable to look away from him. He wants so badly to know what's going on inside his head.

"Where were we going?" George suddenly asks, changing the subject.

Dream grins. "Twistee Treat."

George cocks an eyebrow.

"Frozen custard." Dream explains. "My grandparents use to take me when I was little."

George nods, "That sounds good."

Dream smiles, putting the car into reverse to back out of the parking lot. He pulls out onto the highway, and they're back on their way.

There's yet another silence, and then George speaks up again.

"What does pan mean?" He asks.

Dream glances at him from the corner of his eye. He feels anxiety bubbling up again. "Pansexual." He clarifies.

"...which is?"

Dream sighs, sending George a nervous grin. He knew this would come up eventually. He knows George won't care, but he still feels reluctant to come out to him. Then again in George's mind, if Dream is still an option, (assuming he was even before all of this) Dream identifies as straight. So a relationship is off the table. Which is very far from true. Might as well spill the beans now. Or, some of them, at least.

"Means you're attracted to everyone. Regardless of gender or orientation."

George takes a moment to process that. "So. Then what's bi?"

Dream's eyebrows furrow. "Well it sort of depends how you interpret it. Standard definition of bi means you're attracted to males and females, so technically that means non-binary people or anyone in between don't count. But some say it just means you're attracted to more than one gender. So you could be attracted to females and non-binary. I guess it sort of just puts a limit on them. Pan is just everybody."

"So...if someone liked you, would they be pan, or...?"

Dream feels a small spark of hope. By someone, could he mean himself? "Could be. But I still identify as male. So technically they could be straight. Or bi. Or Demisexual. Could be a lot of things."

"What's demisexual?"

Dream blows a raspberry. Lots of (good) questions. "Basically means you're attracted to personalities rather than looks. Or, you need to have an emotional connection with someone before you can like them. Doesn't really specify sexual preference."

George nods. "Interesting."

Dream hums, looking for his exit.

"So. You're pan? Right?"

He takes a shaky breath. "Yes."

"Are all transgender people pan?"

"No, not necessarily."

Another silence. George seems to be mulling over something in his head.

"What if...you're straight but you like someone that's the same gender?" He finally asks.

More flickers of hope. Dream chuckles. "Hate to burst your bubble bud, but that means you ain't straight." He parks the car, turning to look at him.

"Yeah but...if its only one person?"

Dream blinks. "I guess you could say you're straight. With an exception. Then again you can't really know unless you find someone else."

George's eyebrows are furrowed. He's thinking; hasn't noticed they're at their destination. He opens his mouth, eyes meeting Dream's. His face goes red and he looks away, closing his mouth.

"Geez George. Just spill it." Dream chuckles.

George shakes his head. "Never mind."

Dream sighs. "Oh come on. I've basically told you everything. It's your turn."

George's fingers are gripping the handle on the door, knee bouncing up and down. He's visibly nervous.

"I might have an exception." He whispers.

Dream tries not to let that make his heart jump nearly as much as it does. He mentally tries to cram closed the jar of possibilities that George's confession has allowed to spring out. He tells himself it's unlikely that it's him. But that doesn't stop his imagination.

Dream cocks an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." He breathes.

"Let me guess," Dream starts, "is it...Minx?"

George looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed, mouth open to argue with him. But Dream laughs, and he relaxes, shaking his head.

"Very funny." He says.

Dream smiles. George finally realizes they're here.

"Oh," he starts, looking around. "This place is...busy."

"Yeah. It's pretty popular. Hasn't even opened yet."

"They're not open?"

"Not for another 30 minuets, no."

"Wait, so we drove all the way here and they're not even open?"

Dream smiles sheepishly. "Well I wanted to talk to you."

George blushes, for probably the 11th time today. He seems to do that a lot, Dream is realizing. He didn't really think George was the type to blush at almost every single thing Dream says, considering he rarely ever blushed during streams, regardless of how flirtatious Dream was being with him. It makes him wonder why.

"Listen, George." He sighs, looking away from him so he can try to actually concentrate on what he's saying. "I really am sorry about what I did. It was stupid. And I never should have put you in that situation. You don't deserve that. No one does."

"Dream," he whispers, but Dream continues.

"I don't even have a very valid excuse for it. I just...I just did. I like to think maybe I did it because I knew you were there to stop me, I'm not sure. Not that it makes it okay." He sighs, running a hand over his face. He turns to meet his eyes, grabbing his hand; impulsively. "But thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for saving me. Seriously. I know it might not seem like I'm grateful for it, because I still hate myself and all, but thank you. Really."

"It's...of course." He says, obviously not expecting an apology _and_ a thank you.

"I'm not sure how to make it up to you." Dream admits, biting the inside of his cheek, glancing down at their hands. Usually George would have pulled away by now. George is quiet for a moment. It's obvious he's debating something in his head.

"Talk to me." He finally says, squeezing his hand. "Just- text me, call me, what ever, when ever, 2 am, 5pm. Doesn't matter what I'm doing or where I am. Just- talk to me, first. Please."

Dream looks at him. And he's serious.

"Even if you feel like you're bothering the hell out of me, still. Just- talk to me." And his beautiful brown eyes are looking up at him, desperately pleading.

Dream nods, without even processing it. "I-I think I can do that."

"You think?"

"Okay. I know."

"Good."

George seems to notice they're still holding hands. He pulls away, looking back out the window. Dream swallows down his disappointment. It's silent for a few minuets. They still have a while until Twistee opens.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way." Dream starts.

"Me too." George says, glancing at him: _I'm sorry I embarrassed you._

"I would have- no." He sighs, "no I wouldn't. I probably never would have told you." He admits.

George frowns. "Why not?"

Dream runs a hand over his face, leaning forward to rest against the steering wheel. How is he suppose to answer that without telling him?

"I- didn't want to lose you." He confesses.

"...but you'd lose me by killing yourself..."

"It's flawed logic, I know." He admits.

"But you told everyone else. Were you not afraid to lose them?"

Dream bites his lip. "Not...in the same way, no."

"What is that suppose to be even mean?"

He sighs. "I have a reason George, I just...I'm just not ready to tell you yet."

George huffs. "We literally just talked about this. You can talk to me. Tell me anything. I won't judge you. Unless you've committed crimes against humanity, in which case I _will_ judge you."

Dream scoffs, smiling sadly. "Yeah."

George looks at him, as if expecting him to come clean. He doesn't. George blows a raspberry, shaking his head as he looks out the window. Dream feels his chest twinge with guilt; he disappointed him.

"Sapnap knows why, doesn't he?"

Dream sighs. "Yeah. He does."

George huffs. "Of course."

"I'm sorry," Dream says, but George just shakes his head.

As if on cue, he gets a text from Nick. He fishes out his phone, opening it.

_[S] Did u find George_

_[D] Yes_

_[S] Where did u guys go_

_[D] I'm buying him ice cream_

_[S] Wow_

_[S] Elementary_

_[D] Haha_

_[S] Is it working_

_[D] Haven't got the ice cream yet. But I think I pissed him off again so._

_[S] Wow that quickly_

_[D] He wants to know why I didn't tell him_

_[S] Ah_

_[D] Yeah_

_[S] Just tell him_

_[D] What no_

_[S] Bro he def a simp yeet it_

_[S] Before I tell him_

_[D] You wouldn't_

_[S] Or would I..._

_[D] Hate you_

_[S] Love u 2_

"You texting Nick?" George asks without even glancing towards him.

"Uh, yeah." Dream answers, putting his phone away.

George is mad. Dream can tell by the way his jaw clenches. He feels guilty.

"George. Seriously, what's up."

He shakes his head. And then it occurs to Dream. It might not be true, but it brings a small smile of satisfaction to his lips. 

"Are you, jealous?"

"What? No, why would I be jealous?" He's quick to defend.

Dream grins, "O,h you're _so_ jealous."

George goes red. "I am not."

"Are too," Dream teases.

"You know what, Fine. I am. I'm jealous that he gets to know everything and I don't." George snaps.

Dream pauses. He blinks, looking out the window. He figures its probably time he does tell him. Properly explain.

"I was 12 when I realized I was a boy." He says. George looks at him, obviously confused. "Well, no. That's not entirely true. I think I always sort of wanted to be a boy, but I don't think it really hit me till I was 12. Like, I didn't realize I could actually _be_ a boy till then. Uh, I started T when I was 18. Got top surgery a year ago. The only reason I haven't gotten bottom surgery is because my mom refuses to let me." He sighs. "She's not...the most supportive, about it all. And even though I've gone against her in the past, I-" he bites his lip. This became far more personal _far_ more quickly than he had intended. "I guess it's just...I'd like her to support me. Before hand."

He takes a shaky breath, deciding to move on. "I've uh, been on and off T since I started it, because it tends to fuck with my head a lot. And considering I'm already not all that stable my therapist is always trying to get me to find 'other ways'. So. Sort of hard for me to get a hold of. Partially why I started my period." He licks his lip.

Once again he's admitting more than he intended to. But he finds it so easy to tell him these things, despite how anxious he is over what George could possibly think about all of it. Then again a couple minuets ago George had voluntarily offered to hear him out, so telling him what's on his mind only makes sense.

"And uh. Periods usually give me a lot of dysphoria. So usually I have to opt for birth control, to stop them instead." He sighs, "Which are estrogen, the exact opposite of what I want, kind of undoing everything that T's doing to my body. So I've never really managed to be comfortable, with myself."

He glances over at George. He's staring at the floor of the car, obviously lost in thought. Is he even listening?

"I've been in four sexual relationships." He admits. George's eyes blow wide, and Dream knows he's got his attention now. "Two girls. A guy. One non-binary. None of them lasted very long."

George rubs his face, mumbling out a "I didn't need to know that."

But he continues. "I guess I should also clarify- I'm trans, by the way. Female to male. In case that wasn't already obvious. Also pansexual. Which we talked about earlier. Uh...I also suffer from depression and anxiety. Also insomnia. You already know I have ADHD. I have a lot of issues. I go to therapy every week. I already mentioned my therapist...uh...what else?"

"What are you doing?" George interrupts.

Dream pauses, looking over at him. "Telling you, about me. Giving you stuff that no one else knows."

George still looks confused, but Dream continues.

"Umm. Right uh. I use to play basketball in high school. Girls team, tho. Because high school sucked ass. Nearly Shattered my left ankle trying to do a wheelie when I was 14. Only time I broke a bone. Been stung by bees at least 6 times. I'm allergic to wasps. Oh! Speaking of allergic, I'm also allergic to just about every method of birth control, so it's usually hard to get a hold of. Which reminds me that I'm out. Mind if we go to the pharmacy after this? I also need more pads. I need to stop using tampons."

"I think I get it, Dream." He mutters.

"You sure? Because I'm sure I can think of a lot more."

"Yes, I'm sure." He sighs.

Dream nods, shutting his mouth. They sit in silence for at least five minuets.

And then: "You dated a guy?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"He really didn't set the bar very high, if you're wondering."

"I wasn't."

"I think you were." He grins.

"Shut up."

Dream smiles. Checks his watch. Almost time.

"Text Nick. Ask him what he wants. We'll let him think he's getting one. See how pissed he is when we claim we ate it."

George just shakes his head, pulling out his phone. They sit in yet another silence.

George frowns. "How does...it work?"

"How does what work?"

"Testosterone."

"Oh. Comes in a shot. Depends what kind you get, but most are self-administered. But then there's also pills and creams, but most of that's all shit. Or at least they don't do shit for me."

George is obviously mulling all this information around in his head. The car is quiet. They only have a few more minuets till Twistee's opens.

"Are you still mad with me?" He asks.

George sighs. "No."

Dream bites his lip. "You're sure?"

George looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. I'm sure."

They sit out on the patio as they eat their frozen custard in relative silence. Dream takes it as a good thing, given George is gobbling his up.

"Good?" He asks.

"Definitely worth dealing with you for an hour." George teases.

Dream smiles, finishing his own pretty quickly.

"Do you mind if we go shopping? Real quick?" He asks.

George shakes his head.

Dream feels his level of anxiety rising as they near the Walgreens. The dreaded Walgreens. When he parks outside George goes for the door, but then stops when he sees Dream isn't moving.

"Are...we getting out?" He asks.

"Yeah. Yeah." Dream breathes, staring at the sign.

"...like, today, or?"

"Yeah," Dream huffs, taking a breath. He forces himself to forget why he's here. Stone cold. Poker face.

George follows him inside. Dream instinctively grabs a basket, knowing he's going to leave with more than he came for. He stands in the shampoo isle in silence, George rocking from heel to toe next to him.

"What are we looking for?" He asks.

Dream runs a hand across his face. Why did he think bringing George was a good idea?

"Uh- stuff. Just- yeah." Dream leans down, inspecting the shampoos.

"Didn't you buy shampoo just last week?" George says.

"Uhhh yes. I did."

"Then...are we going to go grab what you really came here for?"

Dream sighs. He huffs. "Fine."

He leads George around, passing the pharmacy several times before George seems to get frustrated. Dream forces himself to finally get in line, swallowing down his anxiety. George hangs back, twiddling on his phone. By the time Dream gets up to the desk his palms are sweating, on the verge of an anxiety attack.

"How can I help you?"

"Ah- hi. Um." He bites his lip. Trying to prepare himself for the odd glance he's about to receive. "I need a prescription filled."

The lady nods. "Okay, name?"

"Uh, Clay. Clay Crawford." And then he swears. "Actually- Claire. Sorry."

The lady looks at him, cocking an eyebrow. Her hands hover over the keyboard.

"It's- Claire. Usually comes up as Claire." He bites his lip.

He hasn't said his birth name out loud in a long time. It makes his gut twist, and he wishes a hole would swallow him up right now.

She types it in, seeming cautious. "Okay...Claire Crawford," she emphasizes, "what do you want filled?"

"Uh. Kariva. Please." He mumbles it.

She blinks at him for a moment. She looks at the screen. "Okay. ID, please?"

He takes a shaky breath, pulling out his wallet. He tugs out his drivers license, handing it over.

She glances over at him, mouth in a firm line. "This says Clay."

He mentally curses himself. "Uh- yeah. It does. I changed my name. It...doesn't usually show up in the computer system. But Clay should be on the prescription." He glances down at the counter, unable to look at her.

She hums, typing on the computer. "Mmmm... Yes, it is. That's strange." Her eyebrows furrow, and then she backtracks, "I mean- that we still have you in the system as Claire. Not- the prescription." She tries to clarify. He just hums. 

She sighs. "It might take a little bit for me to verify, but I should be able to get it through. It'll probably be 15 minuets."

"Thank you," he sighs out, and he's momentarily relieved.

She nods, handing him back his license, and he slides away. George glances back up at him when he comes up. He frowns.

"You okay?" He asks, and Dream recognizes the concern on his face.

"Uh- yeah. It'll be 15. So."

George doesn't believe him, Dream can tell. He reaches out, hesitantly patting his shoulder.

"It's- alright." George says, obviously uncomfortable; not sure how to help him. He squeezes his shoulder, and then slips away. It offers Dream a moment of release anyways.

They stroll the isles as they wait, and Dream leads them past the sanitary isle like five times before George grabs Dream's hand and forces them to go down it. Dream sighs. He stares at the wall of condensed cotton products that somehow manage to intimidate him more than anything else on this planet.

He feels George hovering. Awkwardly. Not sure what to do. He grabs a new kind of pad. Some liners.

Suddenly George points to a period cup. "What the hell is that?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Dream turns to him, eyebrows raised. He blinks.

"No seriously. What is that." He asks, actually _grabbing_ it off the shelf.

"Chalice of blood." Dream whispers.

He's amused by the horrified expression on George's face. "A what- you mean-"

"Yes."

George looks disgusted. "How?"

Dream grins. "I think you know exactly how." He says.

George nearly drops it on the floor. "But- how would-"

Dream takes it from him. "I guess I'll find out." He says, placing it in the basket; something he would _never_ buy. He walks away, as if it's no big deal, heart jumping in his chest at this random burst of confidence.

George squeaks, letting out an "oh my god" before hurrying to catch back up to him.

"Should we get Nick something so he doesn't feel left out?" Dream asks.

"What about me?" George pouts.

Dream turns to looks at him. "You got ice cream and you're getting a chalice of blood. What more do you want?"

"That is _not_ mine." George sputters, making Dream laugh.

"Fine. You both get something."

They continue to cruise the isles, coming across the toy isle. They find a Minecraft stuffed animal wolf.

"Oh this is perfect." Dream says, "because he's my bitch."

George scoffs, "Yeah right."

"What?"

"More like you're his." George laughs.

Dream frowns. He knows if Nick we're here he'd point out that really, Dream's George's bitch. Because it's true. _He's such a simp._

"For that you get the squid." Dream says, throwing it at him.

"I wanted the squid anyways. It glows." He says, sticking out his tongue in defiance.

Dream rolls his eyes. He's in a relatively good mood, despite the fact that he's in a Walgreens; the one place he despises just as much as psych wards. That is until a voice over the speakers says "Claire Crawford, your prescription is ready."

He winces. Someone might as well have drop kicked on the hard tile floor.

"Uh- thats- us." He manages out, and George cocks an eyebrow in confusion.

Dream doesn't bother to explain, leading them back to the pharmacy. This time George follows him up to the desk. Dream mentally swears when he realizes it's a different person.

"Uh. Pick up for Claire." He forces out.

The woman looks him up and down. Her eyebrows furrow. "ID."

He sighs, pulling it back out. He hands it over, already knowing what's coming.

She frowns. "This is for Claire Crawford. Not Clay."

He nods. "Yes. I know. I'm- Claire." He forces out. It hurts to say it.

"That's not what your ID says."

"I changed my name. It doesn't come up properly in the computer." He explains.

She scowls. "Then what prescription are you getting filled?" She quizzes.

He meets her eyes. His grip on the basket tightens. He pauses. "Kariva." He grits out.

"And why would _you_ need _that_?"

Suddenly George huffs, and Dream glances over at him. He looks pissed.

"It's fucking birth control, woman. It's not like you're handing out Xanax."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and Dream feels both humiliated that George has announced it to everyone around them, and a little proud that he's willing to stick up for him. He glances over at George, gasping out a "shut up". The women opens her mouth, but before she can get anything out the lady from before is suddenly there.

"I talked with him earlier. It's alright. I got it." She says, interrupting her. She slides in behind the register, forcing the other lady out.

The woman huffs, and then storms away.

"I am _so_ sorry about that. I thought I printed it out as Clay, the computer must have just... I'm so sorry." She starts to apologize, sliding his license back over and scanning the barcode on the prescription bag.

He bites his lip. He's so close to an anxiety attack, panic tumbling in his chest. Threatening to storm up his throat and block out his air way. He grips the counter, eyes squeezing closed.

"I um. I can take care of the rest of that for you, as well." She says.

Dream glances up, realizing she's referring to the stuff in his basket. "Uh- right." He breathes, setting it up on the counter. He feels himself tense when he remembers everything that's in there.

Suddenly he's smacked in the face with a plush squid tentacle. He spins, looking over at George.

He's biting his lip, a hesitant smile on his face. Dream almost snaps at him for being so childish, but then realizes this is his attempt at trying to ease the tension of the situation; trying to calm him down. He forces a small smile on his face, gently shoving him. George slaps him in the face again and Dream rips the squid from his hand, snorting out a "knock it off" as he places it on the counter for the lady to scan. She seems to smile.

"Oh you know you like it," George teases, and Dream rolls his eyes.

"Muffin head." He mutters, pulling out his debit card to pay. The bill's higher than expected, but he barely looks at it.

" _Claire_ ," George snickers in response, obviously trying to tease him.

Clay tenses, breath catching in his throat. His stomach flies up his throat, and he swallows down the lump. There's a tense moment of silence, and even the cashier seems to notice it, glancing between them.

Clay shoves in his card. Shakily punches in his pin. She puts the receipt in the bag, and Clay breathes out a "Thank you," taking it and turning around to brush past George.

"Dream," he says, catching up.

He doesn't speak, walking out the store and pulling out his keys to unlock the car.

"Clay I was only kidding," George says, obviously concerned.

Dream collapses when he gets behind the steering wheel, eyes squeezed shut. George is silent next to him. The only sound is of his steadily increasing breaths as he desperately tries to fight off the panic attack swirling around him.

"Clay," George breathes, and Dream feels fingers brush his arm.

"Don't ever call me that ever again." He grunts out, voice sounding ragged. "Never."

George is silent. "I...I'm sorry. I- I didn't think it...I'm sorry."

Clay bites his lip.

"I was only kidding." He breathes quietly.

"I don't care. Just- never. Never call me that."

His grandparents are the only ones who still call him that. His mother accidentally on occasion. But hearing the name come out of someone else's mouth only makes him think of his father, and how harshly he would spit it out. They're engulfed by silence, and Clay grips the steering wheel, trying to gain his composure. Forcing his mind not to go back there. He already did that once today; not again. 

He still can't believe George just announced it in front of everybody, that he was getting birth control. Does he not get how _humiliating_ it is? How much it drives his dysphoria insane? The panic is rising up to his lips, and he starts to gasp when he can't breathe, heart pounding.

"Clay?" George asks, "Clay are you okay?"

George reaches out to touch him, but Dream swats his hand away.

"Don't, touch me." He gasps, and he doesn't _really_ mean it. In truth he wishes George would just smother him in affection.

A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, forcing himself to stop. _Not now, not in front of George_. He shoots up in his chair, moving to turn on the car, forcing himself into action.

"Sorry," he grumbles, sniffing as he hands the bags over to George.

He wipes his face, glancing in the rear view mirror as he backs up. There's a stiff silence as they drive.

"Are you mad at me?" George finally breaks it, voice a whisper.

Dream sighs. "A little."

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't know it bothered you, like that."

Dream swallows. "Yeah."

Another silence.

A hand grazes his thigh, fingers brushing the inside of his leg, just above his knee. He jolts, glancing over at George. The car jerks, and he bites down on his tongue, mentally swearing.

"Sorry," George breathes. But he doesn't remove his hand.

Dream grits his teeth, trying hard not to let his mind imagine all the things that that simple touch could bring. It happens anyways. He feels himself flush, thoughts racing. It makes his heart pound, heat scorching through his blood. Every nerve ending picking up every single possible impulse.

"Thank you," George says, and Dream realizes he needs to listen. "For earlier. For...telling me. Everything. I...you didn't have to. I appreciate it."

He glances over at him. His deep brown eyes look so incredibly sincere, and any frustrations he was still holding against him dissipate into thin air.

"Thank you, for doing that. In the store. For sticking up for me."

"That lady was a bitch," he grumbles, hand finally pulling away.

Dream reaches out, grasping his hand before he pulls away completely. George glances back up at him. Dream squeezes.

"Yes she was." He continues, like he didn't just grab George's hand for no reason. "But I do wish you hadn't announced to the whole store that I was buying birth control."

George's cheeks dust pink, and he glances down at their hands.

"Uh- yeah. S-sorry about that."

He gently starts to pull away, but Dream holds him tighter. He seems to comply. There's another silence. And Dream is biting his lip in anticipation. He's holding George's hand. For no reason. Not to pull him along, or to comfort him. Or to act as emphasis, but to hold his hand to hold his hand. It makes his heart race. He wants so desperately to know what's going through George's head.

"I still can believe you bought a chalice of blood." He suddenly speaks up, and Dream is busting out into laughter.

The rest of the drive is fairly lighthearted, just them joking around and teasing. By the time they pull into the drive way they're crying from laughing so hard. Dream finally starts to pull his hand away, and instead George is the one to hold on. He glances over at him, meeting his eyes. There's a brief moment that seems to pass between them, and Dream can easily see himself leaning over the center consul to capture his lips. And then George pulls away, pushing open the door and sliding out of the car like nothing happened.

When they stumble into the kitchen, still giggling, Nick stands like a mom catching her kids coming home past curfew.


	4. Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tells Sapnap a secret, and a nightmare makes confessions come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//: nightmares about suicide, mentions of self harm  
> (Also: sort of gay panic)
> 
> Mostly just fluffy :)

"You guys were gone for like, four hours! What the hell were you doing?" Sapnap growls.

"Chalice of blood!" George shouts, which has Dream wheezing like a tea kettle. He feels a tug of pride at making him laugh.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. "You guys didn't even get me ice cream did you?"

They shake their head, tossing him the wolf.

"What is this?"

"Your present."

"...why?"

"Because you're Dream's bitch," George says, patting him on the shoulder as he passes.

"Excuse me?" Sapnap says, eyebrows raised, "if anybody's Dream's bitch it's you."

George blushes, already denying it. Dream ignores them both, quite literally turning the grocery bag upside down and shaking the contents out. George rummages through the stuff for the pack of gum he secretly slid the cashier when Dream wasn't looking. Dream rips open the prescription bag, pouring out the boxes of birth control. Sapnap double takes.

"Woah bro. Gotta hot date?" He chuckles nervously, glancing at George as he folds in his gum.

George catches the glance he gives him, and frowns. Is he, insinuating... His mind immediately goes rampant with that idea, and he feels himself go red.

"Unfortunately no." Dream sighs, breaking George from his thoughts.

He rolls up his foil wrapper. "Stops his cycles." He says, pelting Sapnap with the tiny foil ball; payback for suggesting _he's_ the reason Dream's getting birth control.

"Hey!" He says, swatting it away.

Dream throws the bag away, and Sapnap picks up the period cup.

"What the hell is this?" He asks.

"Dream's new toy," it instantly slips through George's lips before he can filter himself. He immediately forces himself to _not_ think about that. Dream scoffs. Sapnap drops it.

"Ew what the fuck?"

"He's joking. It's the chalice of blood." Dream says, making George chuckle.

Sapnap blinks, completely lost.

"Period product." Dream elaborates.

Sapnap stares at it. "What the hell..."

"Anyways. I desperately need a shower. So. Y'all have fun. I'll be back." Dream says, scooping up all his supplies and lugging them to his room.

Sapnap shakes his head. George slides into one of the stools at the island bar, fiddling with his phone as Sapnap scavenges the pantry for a snack.

"You hungry?" He asks George, holding up what looks like a round brown rice crispy treat.

"What is that?" George asks.

"A star crunch. You never had one?"

"I...don't think we have those in England."

"Try it. You'll like it." Sapnap says, tossing it towards him.

George catches it, looking at it. Sapnap immediately open's his, sliding onto the stool next to him. George sighs, pulling out the gum he just started chewing. He sticks it to the wrapper, hesitantly taking a bite of the star crunch.

"Thoughts?" Sapnap asks.

"It's- very sugary." He says around a mouthful. There's still a slight minty flavor in his mouth from the gum, "But it's...good." He nods.

"I use to eat these and oatmeal cream pies all the time when I was younger." He sighs, scrolling through Twitter.

"Oatmeal cream pie?" George questions.

Sapnap groans, rolling his eyes. "Only the best snack on this planet. I'll have to send you a box sometime." He says.

They both startle slightly when they hear the shower start, the pipes squeaking. They're silent. George glances at the clock.

"Should we time him?" He asks after a minute.

Sapnap sighs. "I think he'll be fine, George."

George bites his lip. He eats half of the Star Crunch, and then gives the rest to Sapnap.

"I've had enough sugar today," He says, "and I'm not sure if I can handle the rest of that thing."

Sapnap doesn't complain. It's only until Sapnap is almost done with his snack that George speaks up.

"Why didn't Dream tell me?" He asks.

Sapnap pauses. Licks his lips. Shifts on the stool. "Ah- don't know." He says, obviously lying.

George frowns. "Dream said you knew." He calls him out.

Sapnap finishes his snack. "It's uh...not really for me to tell." He some-what mumbles.

George huffs, rubbing his face. "You guys are impossible."

Sapnap just shrugs, starting on George's half. "I'm hungry. What should we have for lunch?"

"It's past lunch." George points out, "and you're literally eating right now."

"Yeah but I'm still hungry." He says, "Gotta grow up big and strong."

George just shakes his head. Looks back at the clock. It's been almost ten minuets since the shower started.

"Should we check on him?" He asks.

"He's fine, George."

George feels himself getting anxious.

"You're sure?" He asks after a couple moments of silence.

"Positive." Sapnap yawns, stretching. He gets up, opening the fridge to scavenge for food.

George bites his lip. Should he tell him? About Dream? How he feels? He wants to. But he's also afraid of what he'll think. What if it ruins their friendship? Forces a divide between the three of them? But he wants to tell someone. It's been driving him crazy. He has to tell somebody.

"Nick." He breathes.

He rarely calls him by his real name, so it gets Sapnap's attention, head poking back out of the fridge.

"Can I- tell you something?"

Sapnap's eyes flicker, as if confused. "Uh, yeah?"

George's hands are starting to sweat. He can't look at him when he says it. He hasn't even said it out loud yet. This will be the first time. He glances over his shoulder, just to double check Dream isn't there, waiting.

"I uh- I think I- I like Dream."

Sapnap closes the fridge; an apple in his hand as he comes over to lean against the counter. He grins. "George, everyone knows that."

George frowns. "No I mean- like," he swallows, mouth going dry from the nerves, "like, more than a friend," he mumbles.

Sapnap stares at him for a while, which doesn't help his anxiety at all.

"You're...serious."

George bites his lip, fidgeting with his fingers. Suddenly Sapnap laughs, as if in amazement.

George frowns. "It's not funny," he says.

"No no, just- ironic." Sapnap shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

"How is it ironic?"

Sapnap smirks, "Can't tell you that. Sorry bud." He moves back around the bar, grabbing his phone.

George's eyebrows furrow in frustration, "What the hell?"

Sapnap chuckles. He slaps George on the back, taking a bite of his apple. "Let's just say you got good chances." He says over a mouth full.

George watches as he disappears into the office, probably to continue working on college stuff. He had literally dropped everything just to come for Dream, college and school work included. George couldn't help but admire his selflessness. He might act like an ass sometimes (or most of the time), but in truth Sapnap is a really good friend. Even the few days when it was just the two of them, waiting for Dream to get out of the hospital, Sapnap somehow managed to keep George sane. George could barely sleep, sitting wordlessly on the couch throughout the night. Unable to get the image of Dream's bloody wrists out of his head. Sometimes Sapnap would just sit with him, to keep him company. Other times he would find random things for them to do to try and keep George's mind off of it. He's just grateful to have a friend like him. 

George realizes that the shower must have stopped running, meaning Dream should be out by now. He debates checking on him. It's been almost 20 minuets since he left.

George isn't entirely sure what to think about Sapnap's response to his confession. It's definitely not what he was expecting, but then again he wasn't sure what to expect. He huffs. His nerves are going to drive him crazy if he lets himself dwell on it for too long. He decides to check on Dream. 

He slides off the stool, pocketing his phone. He gently pushes open the bedroom door, peeking in. When he doesn't see him he pushes it open. Dream sits on the edge of his bed, looking at his phone. Only wearing boxers.

"Woah!" He spins, "sorry!"

Dream chuckles. "Gee George. Maybe knock next time?"

"Sorry," George whispers, afraid to turn around.

He's not sure how to treat him without clothes on. George knows he doesn't have boobs, but at the same time his head is telling him it's wrong to look; it's not the same as if he ran in on Sapnap shirtless.

Is he being unreasonable? Transphobic? Or is it just the fact that he has a crush, that's making him so flustered at the idea? He can't tell.

"You're fine George," Dream says, and George glances over his shoulder to see him throwing on a pair of shorts. He doesn't grab a shirt.

George tells himself to get over it. It's not a big deal; shouldn't be a problem in the first place. However, George will note- previous suspicions that Dream was buff are confirmed: abs, pecks, biceps- you name it. Then again, waking up curled next to him had already affirmed his assumptions. He flushes, and decides he needs to use the restroom.

The rest of the day they just chill and hang out. They order pizza and play two games of monopoly before George and Sapnap realize it's a loosing battle against Dream. They switch to clue, playing till it's dark outside.

"Should we say something? To the fans, I mean." Sapnap speaks up, checking his cards as Dream rolls.

"Uh...what?" Dream asks, and George can't help but agree. 

Tell the fans Dream tried to kill himself? The man hasn't even revealed his face, let alone something as personal as that.

"No, like," Sapnap sighs, setting down his hand. "None of us have streamed or tweeted or been on the server in over a week. Fans are noticing. I'm not the only one who's checked Twitter, right?"

George bites his lip. Twitter has been going crazy with speculation. Sapnap is right.

"What would we tell them?"

"Simple. We all needed a break from the internet. Not sure how long it will last." Sapnap answers.

Dream rolled a six, but he still hasn't moved, obviously thinking.

"Clay?" Sapnap prompts. George watches him, waiting for a response.

He'd finally put on shirt becasue he kept catching George staring (George really just couldn't help himself). Thinking about it makes him feel guilty, because it had obviously made Dream self conscious and insecure. George wishes he could apologize, but he's not sure how he could tell him he shouldn't be embarrassed without making it uncomfortably clear that he was admiring him. Which would be hard to explain. 

"We have to say something eventually. Might as well sooner rather than later." Dream agrees. "I'll tweet something out tonight. You two can after I've decided what all I want to tell them." he says.

They nod. Seems fair.

Dream wins the fourth round of clue. It's almost 10pm. They decide to hit the hay. Dream formulates a tweet as George and Sapnap bicker over sink space as they try to brush their teeth simultaneously. He sighs when he comes in, making them both pause.

"I mentioned you both in it, but you guys might want to tweet something as well, just to make sure."

They both nod, and then Sapnap finishes, spitting out into the sink and placing his toothbrush in the holder. For a brief moment as Dream starts to brush his teeth, and George has him stuck here next to him, he's tempted to just say it. Admit his feelings. It's a crazy idea, but what Sapnap said from earlier keeps echoing through his head.

_"Let's just say your chances are good."_

Or, that's what George thinks he said, anyway. He was saying it over a mouthful of apple, so his pronunciations weren't quite clear. George decides it's too risky. Besides, even if that is what Sapnap said, George isn't entirely sure what that's suppose to mean. He finishes and then checks Twitter, plopping down in the chair in Dream's room. Dream stretches as he enters the bedroom, yawning. He slides under the covers, and there's a long silence.

"George."

"Yeah?" He yawns.

"Get in the bed."

George feels his face flush, but he complies. It's a silent understanding; Dream realizes George is not going to be able to sleep unless he knows he's okay. This is the solution. He slides under the covers, and is quickly fading into sleep, dreams swirling in his mind.

\- - - - - - - -

He jolts awake, heart racing. Tears are already streaming his cheeks. He reaches out, frantically patting the bed next to him. It's empty.

"Dream?" He calls.

"Yeah?" A gruff voice responds.

George sighs in relief, laying back down. "Thank god," he breathes, running his hands over his face. "Where are you?" He asks.

Dream takes a moment to respond, but then George feels the bed dip down at his feet, and he knows he's sitting at the end of the bed.

"I'm here." He says, and a hand brushes his feet through the covers.

George tries to get his heart to stop racing. He needs to see him. He reaches for the lamp on Dream's bedside, pulling it on. Dream's hunched over at the end of the bed.

George sits up, biting his lip. "I had a dream you died." He whispers.

That seems to catch Dream's attention.

"How'd I die?"

George hesitates to answer. "You killed yourself." He whispers, and the scene comes flashing back to him all over again, anxiety consuming him.

"Fuck Dream I can't lose you." He cries.

It's something he's been doing a lot of lately. He's probably cried more this past week than he has in years. He's not entirely sure what that should mean.

Dream barely glances over his shoulder. He turns when he realizes George is crying. He scoots across the bed, not hesitating to wrap him in a hug. George clutches him close, gripping him hard to make sure he's real; his nightmare felt too real. His mind can't stop thinking about the blood. Cold pale skin. Glazed eyes.

"I'm here, George," Dream breathes, taking his hand and placing it on his chest. "Alive and breathing," he says.

George sighs, resting his head against his shoulder. He keeps his hand on Dream's chest, calmed by the faint thumping under his palm. Dream's hand slips away. They sit clutching each other for a long time, silence around them. George manages to calm down, the beating under his hand soothing his nerves. Instead he becomes distracted by the fact that they're in bed, hugging. It feels intimate, and it makes butterflies flutter in his stomach, heat racing through his blood.

"Why were you up?" He asks him.

Dream hesitates. George pulls away to look at him. Dream looks nervous.

"Dream?" He prompts, hand slipping off his chest.

Dream shifts, glancing away. "I didn't want to wake you." He whispers.

"Wake me? For what?"

He doesn't answer, but George already knows the answer.

"Talk to me. Please." He says.

Dream sighs. "I just...feel like shit."

"Well...You're not."

That makes Dream snort. There's a silence.

"I want to cut so bad George." He sighs.

George frowns. "You don't have to do that." He says, taking his hand.

"It's not that simple," Dream huffs.

"Why do you want to cut?" George asks instead, swirling his thumb over his palm.

Dream blows a raspberry. "I don't know," he sighs.

"Is it because of what I said earlier today?" He asks, afraid to hear the answer.

Dream shakes his head, "No, no its not. I'm just...today was...sort of a rough day. I guess. With Walgreens, and everything."

George knows he won't admit it to him, but he knows this is partially his fault. He wonders if he hadn't been there if things would have been better; less stressful.

"What would make you happy?" George asks. "Something I could do, that would make you happy?"

Dream meets his eyes, and there's a moment that seems to pass between them. "Distract me." He breathes.

George swallows, eyes flickering over his face. He knows what he wants to do, but he's almost certain it's a terrible idea. But it would be so easy, right now. All he'd have to do is close the gap. Heat seems to wash over his face, all the way down to his shoulders. He thinks he catches Dream's eyes flickering down at his lips, and he looks down, heart jumping in his chest.

_That could have been close._

"Do you...remember earlier today, when I said I...might have an exception?" George starts. This seems to get Dream's attention.

"Yes?"

"Well..." George hesitates. "It's a friend of mine." He says, glancing up at him.

Dream bites his lip; something he seems to do a lot. And it drives George crazy every single time. He can't help but stare.

"And he's going through a tough time right now. And I don't know how to help him."

Dream sighs. "George this isn't helping." He starts to pull away. George tugs on his hand, pulling him back.

"Dream." He breathes. "That night, when...when I kissed you..."

Dream seems to tense. He looks away.

Is he really going to come clean? Right now? Dream had kissed him back, but he was drunk, so George isn't quite sure what it's suppose to mean.

"I didn't just do it to make you open your mouth." He whispers.

Dream blinks. Looks at him. His mouth pops open, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly in confusion. George's stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. 

_Did he really just say that?_

Suddenly there's a hand cupping his chin, pulling him in. His eyes pop wide when his lips meet his. It's a simple kiss, just long enough to make George's entire body buzz with warmth. He's left so shocked that he can't even react. Dream pulls away, eyes flickering over his face.

George is speechless. He wasn't expecting this. Any of it: telling Dream, let alone kissing him. His mouth stays open in shock, eyes wide as he watches Dream's face fall.

"I'm sorry," Dream suddenly breathes, pulling away.

George's eyebrows furrow. "What?" He whispers, watching as Dream stands up, starting to pace the room.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I thought- fuck," he swears, clutching his head.

"What- What do you mean?" George asks, standing up to stop him. He lands a hand on his shoulder, and Dream pauses to look at him. He bites his lip.

"Why are you sorry?" George asks, "did you not...you don't like me, like that." he breathes, connecting it in his head.

Dream had tried. That's what the kiss was. An attempt to reciprocate feelings, but he doesn't feel the same way.

George pulls away, sitting down on the edge of the bed, cursing. "Fuck I'm sorry- I shouldn't have said anything."

"What?" Dream breathes. "No I- I thought you didn't- I do like you, George."

George looks up at him. "What?"

Dream crouches down, hands coming to rest on George's knees. "I like you too, George." He repeats.

George stares at him.

"I thought I misunderstood what you said. You didn't...kiss back so I thought you didn't like me like that-" Dream starts to explain.

"I do," George breathes. "You, surprised me, is all."

Dream looks at him. There's a moment of silence, and this time George reaches down, cupping his face and pulling him up to kiss him.

When their lips meet its like setting fire to gasoline.

George falls back against the bed when Dream stands up, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. Their lips lap like waves, slow and steady, but always crashing back to shore. His heart is racing in his chest, a scorching heat shooting through his body, reaching into his fingers and toes and setting his entire being ablaze.

He's only been anticipating this moment for few months, but it seems like he's been waiting for an eternity. To have him in his arms, and for more than just a hug. And it's better than he ever imagined, as insane and cheesy as it sounds. It makes his chest feel light, head going dizzy.

"George," Dream breathes across his lips, pulling away to catch his breath.

George holds him close, resting his forehead against his. "Yeah?"

"What...what does this mean?"

George sighs. He closes his eyes, sucking in his bottom lip. He really doesn't want to think about all of that right now. Everything's so complicated. And his brain feels like it's full of cotton, he's so caught up in this moment. He just wants to have him in his arms without having to worry about it all.

"I don't know," he breathes. "Let's...worry about that tomorrow."

Dream swallows. "Okay," he nods.

George recaptures his lips, pulling him back down.

Somewhere along the way they find themselves back under the covers, curling up next to each other, arms and legs entwined. Dream presses butterfly kisses to his nose as he drifts off, and he hears him say a faint "that was a good distraction" just before he slips under, content with the world.

\- - - - - - - - 

He wakes up staring at the popcorn ceiling. He realizes that George never came and got him. He sighs, sitting up and stretching, letting out a yawn. Patches meows at him from the floor, rubbing up against his leg. He reaches down to pet her, standing up. He gently pushes open the bedroom door, peering in.

Just like yesterday, they're both passed out in the bed. But this time they're both facing each other, George's face tucked under Dream's chin. Arms clutching each other close.

Sapnap blinks. This seems more than accidental, like yesterday. Did he miss something? George had told him that he had a crush on Dream; was he trying to tell him they were together?

Sapnap leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He opens the fridge, grabbing the orange juice. He pours himself a glass, sitting down at the bar. He rubs sleep from his eyes, staring at the granite countertop.

He supposes it's a good thing. George has always been a point of anxiety for Dream; _what will George think?_ If they've figured things out then Dream won't have to worry about impressing him anymore. But he also can't help but feel conflicted. Yes, he's use to being the third wheel, but this feels different. He almost feels jealous. And he's not even sure if his suspicions are true.

He finds himself looking up flights back to Huston.

Just like every other time this happens: he comes over in a hurry to help Dream. Leaves without him really noticing. He knows Dream's thankful. He's told him. But he also feels like his help sometimes goes unnoticed. Like Dream doesn't always realize how much he's actually there for him. It's just by the time he leaves everything's fine again. And with everything back to normal it's like nothing ever happened in the first place. He never dropped everything to come out and help his friend. He never failed a college class to make sure his friend didn't kill himself. And it feels like George has gotten more attention for it. Sapnap's been here every time. At his beck and call. It only takes one time, and George is the hero. Placed upon a golden pedestal, praised and admired.

And Sapnap gets it. He understands why Dream has treated George differently; it's because he loves him. And if it weren't for George, he probably would have died. He'd never really gone that far before. The stakes were higher; he'd really tried to kill himself this time. But Sapnap's been there too. He's walked in on him trying to kill himself. He's cried on the phone with 911 operators, driven Dream to the hospital. Dropped his entire life for his best friend. And yet George still gets more recognition. George gets ice cream and consolidation. Apologies after apologies. Like George is the only one who can't sleep at night with worry.

He doesn't need cuddles and kisses or hugs- whatever it is Dream's giving George; he just wants to know Dream recognizes that he's done just as much, if not more. Apologize, just once. And he feels stupid for making it all about him; his friend tried to kill himself and it's his life that's all screwed up now. Like he's the only one suffering.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it off. It's fine. Everything is okay.

He books a flight for tomorrow night, taking a sip of his orange juice. He checks Twitter, scrolling through all the tweets to try and stop his mind from racing.

\- - - - - - - -

When his eyes flutter open the first thing he notices is the warm body next to him, arms wrapped around his torso. Last night's events cross his mind, and he smiles. His heart feels like it just might explode from happiness. He could die right now, and be at peace.

He pulls away to look at him. He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping. He can't help but admire how perfect he is. It makes his heart race just thinking about it; the beauty of his somehow immaculate skin, like it's a gift from the gods themselves. His thick eyelashes. Perfectly arched brows. Flawless jawline. Don't even get him started on the faint stubble; it's so simple but damn it works wonders somewhere in the back of his brain. And god- his lips. It all sounds so cheesy.

He presses a kiss to his forehead, shifting to rub his shoulder. He can't help but smile like an idiot. George's eyes crack open. He squeezes him, groaning and burrowing his head back into his neck.

"I don't want to get up." He groans, voice gravely from sleep. It makes Dream want to swoon.

He chuckles. "We can stay here." He offers. In fact he loves that idea. He would be content with just this. If this was the rest of his life; just laying here with George in his arms.

George sighs. "Please." He whispers.

Dream runs a hand up and down his spine, eyes closing. He's dreamed about this moment for years. To have him in his arms. It makes his heart sing, warmth spreading through his body.

He almost says it: _I love you._

But he stops himself. It's far too early for that. He doesn't want to scare him away.

It's also then that he realizes he's free. He doesn't to have to watch what he says. Constrain his feelings. Put up a fake wall. Play off every flirt or compliment as a joke. Spend hours on end worrying about how he's acting or what he looks like, fretting over every little action and move. _Free._ He squeezes him, burying his face in his hair. He inhales the smell of his own shampoo, grinning like an idiot. It's so refreshing. He's so, happy. He's not sure he's felt like this...ever, maybe. He wants to cry, it's so exhilarating.

His sappy thoughts are suddenly interrupted by George's growling stomach. He chuckles.

"You hungry?" He asks.

George sighs. "Yeah."

"Then let's grab breakfast."

George groans. "I don't want to leave."

Dream cocks an eyebrow. "You can't eat if we're stuck here."

George huffs, looking up to meet his eyes. "But I just want to stay like this. With you. Forever."

That nearly steals Dream's breath away. His heart clenches, and his hand falters. He meets his deep brown eyes, and he swears he could get lost in their chocolate expanses.

"Yeah?" He breathes.

George nods, and soon their noses are brushing, lips parting.

There's a knock at the door, just before their lips meet. They both jump, pulling away to look up. The door is still closed.

"Hey," Nick says from the other side.

Dream sighs. "What?" He snaps. He bites his tongue; he didn't mean to come off so harsh.

"I made breakfast yesterday. It's one of your guys's turn."

Dream sighs. George frowns.

"Okay." He calls back.

He hears Nick shuffle away. He looks back down at George.

"I guess we have to get up."

George pouts, squeezing him tighter. "Okay." He sighs, pulling away. 

The moment his warmth is gone Dream wishes he were back, but he shoves it aside. He can't be holding onto him forever, 24/7.

He yawns, stretching as he stands up. George is rubbing his eyes. Just before George can pull open the door Dream grabs his hand, pulling him back. He captures his lips, cupping his face. George looks completely starstruck when he pulls away, causing him to smile.

"I didn't get to kiss you earlier." He says, and George bites his lip.

There's a brief moment as they look at each other, almost on the verge of another kiss, when Dream speaks up.

"Should we tell him?" He asks.

George pauses. "Maybe...not yet."

Dream nods. "Okay."

When they leave the bedroom Nick is sitting at the counter on his phone. He turns, glancing up at them.

"If you two are going to sleep together from now on, does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch?" He asks, tapping the counter at Dream's meds. 

George visibly blushes at his remark. Dream laughs. He feels his gut fall at the idea of meds, but he's in too much of a good mood to really care today. He sighs, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"Uh-y-yeah, sure." George says.

Dream scoops them up off the counter, tossing them back with a swig of water. He catches Nick watching him; obviously trying to make sure he swallowed them all. Dream rolls his eyes, opening his mouth with an "Aaah", slightly annoyed. Nick looks down, nodding curtly. The kitchen falls silent, and George sits down next to Nick at the counter, pulling out his own phone. Dream pulls out the pancake mix, opening the cabinet to grab the mixing bowl and a pan. He glances at Nick; usually he's a little more vocal in the morning. He inspects him as he starts on the pancakes. He looks like he didn't sleep the best last night. Maybe he was up late working on homework?

"When are you planning on heading home?" He asks.

Nick seems to pause. For a brief moment Dream thinks he catches a hurt expression on his face, but it quickly disappears.

"Uh...tomorrow." He mumbles.

"Oh?" Dream says, surprised.

"I can leave tonight, if you want." He says, looking down at his phone.

"No I- I thought you'd stay longer." Dream frowns.

Nick glances up at him. "Oh. Well. I already booked my flight." He shrugs.

Dream bites at his lip. Obviously he's done something to make him feel unwelcome. Guilt pools in his stomach. 

"I'll drive you. I can pay for your flight back." he offers.

Nick starts to shake his head.

"Nick you're in college. You don't need another fifteen hundred dollar expense in your bank account." He points out. "And besides. I'm the reason you're here. So. Its on me."

That seems to shut him up. Dream reminds himself that he needs to thank him properly at some point. Up until now it's just been a simple "thank you". The kid deserves more.

"You guys want anything in your pancakes?" He asks when he starts to pour the batter.

"Chocolate chips, if you have any." Nick replies, and Dream smiles.

"Coming right up."

They eat breakfast in relative silence. Dream might even consider it an awkward silence. He struggles to keep his eyes off George; still unable to believe last night was real. That George actually likes him back. It makes his insides flutter just thinking about it; a stupid smile stuck on his face. Nick eyes him; he's onto them. When they finish they all they place their plates in the sink, and George starts to help clean up. Nick heads for the office, claiming he has work to do. He shuts the door behind him. Dream can't help but feel like he's giving them space. On purpose. The moment he's gone Dream pulls George close, capturing him in a kiss. George pulls away, eyes wide, glancing back over his shoulder at the office door.

"What-What if he comes back-" he whispers, and Dream shakes his head.

"So what?"

George blushes. He doesn't seem to have a good answer for him. Dream pecks him on the lips, but let's him go. Dream stays close to him, whether it be hovering over his shoulder or helping him; watching as he cleans dishes.

"George I own a dishwasher. You don't have to wash everything."

George sighs. "Right."

Dream slides his arms around him, mouth at his ear. "We could watch a movie," he suggests, "the dishes can wait."

George flushes, but he nods.

They spend at least half an hour flipping through movies on the Apple TV until they land on Men in Black. When Dream realizes George has never seen any of them, he decides its Movie montage time. He puts his arm across George's shoulders, and George leans into him, laughing at Will Smith. Eventually Nick comes out to see what's going on, and decides to join them, grabbing a bag of popcorn. George pulls away, and Dream frowns. He's not sure why he's so hesitant to let Nick know.

"He won't care," he whispers as George shrugs off his arm.

George bites his lip, looking at him. When Nick enters the room George gets up, claiming he has to use the restroom. Nick sits down next to Dream on the couch, offering him some popcorn. Dream contemplates telling him, but considering how George is acting he's not sure if it's a good idea. When George returns he sits down in the recliner, and Dream can't help but feel hurt at the distance he's placed between them. George refuses to even look towards him, eyes glued to the TV.

The rest of the day goes like this. Whenever Nick's around George practically acts as if Dream doesn't exist.

By dinner time Dream's nearly fed up with it. He purposely sits next to George at the table, taking his hand. George glances at him, almost startled, but Dream acts as if nothing's happened. He catches Nick glancing, but other than that he doesn't pay any attention to their hands.

"What time does your flight leave tomorrow?" Dream asks, spinning his fork in the spaghetti.

"5pm." He answers.

"Oh. So we'll still have more time to hang out?"

Nick nods. Dream smiles.

George pulls his hand away, cheeks flushing red. Dream glances at him. He wants to say something. But obviously drawing attention to it now would only make things worse. So he stays silent, biting back his frustration. Instead he sneaks his hand under the table, resting it on George's thigh; just like he did to him yesterday in the car. He feels satisfied when it draws another blush to his cheeks.

After they eat dinner they go their separate ways. Nick takes a quick shower, and then George hops in after him. Dream is on the laptop in his bedroom when George walks in, towel around his waist.

"Uh- Dream."

Dream's eyes nearly bulge from his head when he glances up.

"Uh- y-yeah?" He answers, unable to hide the fact that he's ogling George. A million things are running through his head at that moment, and not a single one of them are family-friendly.

"I uh...I'm out of clean clothes." He says, flushing as Dream looks him up and down.

Dream blinks. In the back of his mind he's telling himself that that's not necessarily a bad thing, if it means George is walking around the house like this. But common sense tells him it is indeed an issue.

"Could I...maybe borrow something?" He asks.

Dream bites back his smile. "Sure."

He tosses him a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. George mumbles a "thank you" and then disappears back into the bathroom. He comes back in to grab his toothpaste, and Dream can't help but grin. The clothes are a little too big on him, and Dream finds it absolutely adorable. He slides up behind him as he's brushing his teeth, placing a kiss behind his ear. George flushes red, and he pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth.

" _Dream_ ," he hisses, trying not to spit toothpaste everywhere. "What are you doing?"

Dream frowns. "Givin' you attention." He whispers, trailing kisses along his jaw. George pulls away, spitting out the toothpaste.

"What if Sapnap comes in here?" He hisses.

Dream shrugs. "So what? He won't care."

George tries to escape, pulling away. Dream huffs, releasing him.

"What is your problem with him knowing? He doesn't care. In fact, George, he actively ships us together in case you didn't know," Dream starts, volume raising.

George hushes him, running a hand over his face. "I just...it makes me uncomfortable." He whispers.

"What does? Me, or Nick?"

George shushes him, glancing back at the office door. He sighs. Finally meets Dream's eyes. "I...I'm not ready yet. To come out."

Dream blinks. "George, Nick doesn't care that you're bi, or, straight, or, whatever you call yourself."

George covers his face, groaning. "Never mind. It's stupid." He says, shuffling to leave.

He mentally curses himself. That was hypocritical of him to say. He hesitated to tell George he was pan, even though he knew George wouldn't care; he was in the same boat. Dream catches his hand, stopping him. 

"Wait George," he starts, "it's not stupid. Tell me."

George glances at him, eyes flickering over his face. "Come to bed with me." He whispers.

Dream doesn't hesitate.

When George plops down he immediately pulls Dream down for a kiss. Dream falls forward, pinning him to the bed below him.

"George wait," he breathes, pulling away.

George sighs.

"Tell me what's going on. What's going through your head?"

George covers his face. "I-" he hesitates. "I don't want to be gay," he breathes.

Dream almost laughs at how absurd the statement is; no one really _wants_ to be gay; no one wants to have to deal with the judgement of society. But he stops himself.

"What...do you mean?" He asks instead.

George licks his lips, unable to make eye contact. "I just...it feels...wrong. To say it. To admit it."

Dream sits back. He understands.

George is conflicted because all his life he's known himself as straight; it's all he's known. Society has pressured him to be straight. It's the "norm"; it's what's expected. So he feels conflicted. Even if the people around him are supportive and understanding, it still feels awkward to deviate from the "norm".

"George. It's okay to be gay."

George huffs, "I know _that_ , Dream. It's just...I don't want to be."

Dream frowns. He feels a sudden trickle of fear drip down his spine. "George. You gotta be more clear than that. When...when you say you don't want to be, do you mean..."

He shakes his head. "No, no I do- I do want to be with you I just...it feels wrong to call it what it is."

He takes a breath of relief. There's a silence, and Dream shifts to lay down beside him. George's eyes flutter across his face, and he reaches forward to cup his cheek.

"It feels like it shouldn't be an issue, to be with you. Like it's not a big deal. But it- people will say it's not normal. Or it's not okay. And I- it feels normal."

Dream grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"I told Sapnap, yesterday. That I liked you." He admits.

Dream's eyebrows furrow. "So he already knows? Then why are you so reluctant to let him see us together?"

George sighs, glancing away. "I-I don't know. It just feels...different. Like I'm actually admitting it...even though I did admit it already- it's stupid, I know. I should just get over it. It's ridiculous."

Dream squeezes his hand. "I understand." He says, even if he doesn't really get it. He understands that George is conflicted.

George looks at him sadly. "I'm sorry I'm making this difficult."

"You're not."

"But I am."

Dream shakes his head. He leans in closer to press a kiss to his forehead. "It's alright." He whispers.

George scoots over to be closer, face only centimeters from his.

"We should probably go to sleep." He breathes.

Dream nods. "Yeah we should."

They lay in silence. And then George leans forward, connecting their lips. Dream can never truly get enough of him. His heart races and his stomach flutters. He feels euphoric with him in his arms; a feeling he hasn't felt in years. He breaks away, resting his forehead on his.

"George when are you going home?" He asks.

He hates to do it to himself; ruin the perfect moment and shatter his happiness, but it's sort of something he's good at. And he'd hate to let himself get so invested when it's only going to end soon.

George bites his lip. Closes his eyes. "I-I don't know. I don't want to leave you." He says.

Dream tells himself it's not a real solution, or at least that it's not a good idea, but he finds himself offering it anyways: "You could move in." 

By the look on George's face he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Too soon. _Far_ too soon.

"I mean- you could stay here. For a while. You don't have to move in."

George bites his lip. "I think...I think we should wait. Have that conversation later."

Dream nods. They lay in silence, Dream slowly tracing swirls on George's hand.

"George." He breathes. "Are we, a thing now?"

George cocks an eyebrow. "I...I don't know."

"Do you want to be?"

George bites his lip. "Like...together? As...my boyfriend?"

Dream nods. "Yeah."

George flushes. "Uh-y-yeah."

Dream grins. "Where should we have our first date?"

George's eyebrows shoot up. "I-you're the one who lives here. How am I suppose to know?" He points out.

Dream smiles. "Maybe I'll surprise you then."

A smile finds its way to George's lips, and he hides his face in Dream's neck. "That sounds like fun." He whispers.

Dream hugs him closer, pressing kisses to his open neck. "Not tomorrow, because I'm driving Nick to the airport. The day after that sound good?"

George hums. "That's perfect."


	5. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to spend some time together on their last day. Dream gets a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//: panic/anxiety, hinted transphobia, mentions/references of: self harm, suicide

Like usual he wakes up before the both of them, smiling when he finds no twinge in his neck as he stretches. He hated the couch. Too bad he only got to spend one night off it.

He goes to the bathroom. Flushes. Brushes his teeth. He peeks into the bedroom just to make sure everything's okay. He smirks when he sees Dream spooning George, arms hugging him close. They look so peaceful. He lets them be, just like always.

He starts to pack his things. He scours Dream's cupboard for something other than protein bars and Star crunches (two things he's had too much of lately, and is starting to get tired of), finally settling on a banana instead. He decides to clean his clothes so he doesn't have to waste quarters at the laundromat back in Huston. He finishes packing the rest of his stuff and then double checks to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. He returns back to the kitchen to look for more food when Dream and George surface from the bedroom.

"Mornin' love birds. Sleep good?" He jokes, grabbing his usual orange juice from the fridge. Dream's almost out now.

As usual George blushes, and Dream just grins.

"Slept like a princess." Dream replies, taking out the milk and taking a wiff. He gags.

"I told you the other day the milk was bad. You should've gotten new." Sapnap reminds him.

"I thought you would have dumped it out." Dream chides, pouring it down the sink.

"George it's your turn to make breakfast." Sapnap volunteers him.

George sighs. "I don't cook."

"Too bad." Dream says, throwing the milk carton away. "I don't want to make pancakes again."

George sighs. "What else is there to even have? We've had eggs like everyday. Surely we're out?"

Sapnap shrugs. "Good point."

Dream sighs. "Fine. I'll go get breakfast somewhere. You two coming or staying?"

"I got laundry." Sapnap says, swigging down his orange juice. "You need more OJ too."

Dream sighs. "And a grocery trip. Great. George?"

George shakes his head, yawning out a "too tired."

He nods. "Alright. You guys text me a list of stuff we need and let me know what you want from Micky-Ds. I'll try to be quick." He says. He slips on some slides and then is heading out the door.

Sapnap takes a quick inventory, and then sends him a grocery list. He sends him his order, and then glances up at George, who's half asleep at the dining table.

"George." He says, making him startle awake. "What do you want from McDonalds?"

George sighs. "Do you guys have cheesy bacon flatbread here?" He asks.

Sapnap blinks. "No."

George sighs. "Tell him to just get me whatever he's getting."

Sapnap sends the text, and then they're both quiet. Its then that he realizes he forgot to give Dream his meds. He curses, jumping off his stool to go to the living room. He purposely hid them behind the TV cabinet, knowing Dream wouldn't think to look back there. He squeezes behind the TV, pulling out the bottles. He'd think by now he would know which bottle is which, but he still has to look at the labels to see. He shakes them out, and then shoves them in his hoodie pocket, returning the bottles behind the TV. He supposes he'll have to show George where he hid them so George can make sure Dream still gets them. He walks back to the dining room, sighing. He stops when he sees George curled up on a dinning room chair, Patches in his lap and purring. He can't help but chuckle, shaking his head.

George's head lolls to look up at him, still half asleep. "What?" He asks.

"Nothing." He responds, returning to his stool.

"You were laughing. What's funny?"

"You and Patches. She's all over you now."

George smiles. "Yeah. I think she likes me." He scratches her under her chin, and she stretches out her neck for more, paws kneading at his arm.

Sapnap feels a twinge of jealousy. Patches seems to hate him. He's not sure why. He's taken care of Dream several times, but it only takes George once for Patches to decide he's alright. It shouldn't bother him. It's trivial. But its _Patches_. Could she care to share the love? 

He just shakes his head. "Hey, for when I'm gone," he starts, opening up twitter. George looks back up at him. "I hid Clay's meds behind the TV. Make sure he takes them. I can leave you a list of what he takes in the morning. I think he's suppose to take something at night but I'm still not sure which one. He seems to be doing okay with out it though." He would ask Dream, but Dream doesn't like taking his meds, so he'd probably just tell him that he doesn't take anything. He considers texting Dream's older sister; she would know.

There's a brief silence. 

"You're a really good friend, Nick." George says, voice soft. 

Sapnap glances up at him from his phone. He shrugs slightly, sheepish.

"Seriously, I mean it. Clay's, so lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you. I mean, I- I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here. Thank you. Really."

What is someone actually suppose to say to something like that? Thank you? You're welcome? That just sounds in-genuine. Uncomfortable. Awkward. 

He shrugs, again, "Just...what friends do, I guess." 

He's not sure that was any better. He finds it ironic how just yesterday he was complaining about no one acknowledging everything he's done for them, and then here he is feeling bashful that someone is. 

The silence drones on between them, and Patches finally jumps off of George's lap, making him frown. George sighs, and then shifts prop his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. Sapnap notices him looking at him, and glances up at him. George looks away, out the sliding doors to the back yard. He releases a puff a air, shifting in his seat to lean back.

Finally he speaks up. "Did you...hear anything, last night?"

Sapnap cocks an eyebrow, a smirk slipping to his lips. "As in...?"

George flushes. "God- _no_. Get your head out of the gutter." He huffs, rolling his eyes. It makes Sapnap chuckle. "No. I mean. Us...talking."

Sapnap shakes his head. He had put headphones in and blared music till he passed out. He wasn't in the mood to deal with silence. George nods. He seems a little on edge.

"Why? Was there something I wasn't suppose to hear?"

George opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Sapnap would usually tease him, but something about the expression on George's face tells him that now's not the time.

"Nick I...I'm gay."

He blinks. Nearly laughs, but holds it back. "Uh...yeah. I sort of already figured that out when you said you liked Dream."

George huffs. He shifts to cover his face. "Just- I'm trying to come out Nick. Please."

Sapnap puts up his hands in surrender. He's quiet, letting him speak.

George sighs. He takes a moment. Staring at the table. "I've been straight my whole life. Only liked girls. I've never seen a guy and thought..."

Sapnap smirks. "Until you saw Dream?" He grins.

George rolls his eyes. "No...I...I think I liked him before I even met him. I just...I hadn't really realized it yet, until a couple months ago. That I liked him the way I'd like a girl." He blushes at that admission. 

"So. You're saying you're bi?" Sapnap clarifies.

George sighs. "I don't know."

Sapnap cocks an eyebrow.

George takes a breath. "I- I like girls. But- Clay- I don't know. He's like, an exception."

Sapnap tries not to make fun of him for how cheesy that sounds, because this is a serious moment- or at least George is trying to have a serious moment with him. It's not something that happens often between the two of them. In fact, Sapnap's not sure he can even recall a time they ever tried to be serious with each other (other than the other night, and he supposes a couple minuets ago); not like this.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure I'm bi." He says, the words leaving his lips before he really realizes what just came out. He feels a heat burn in his chest. He's never really told any one that; not even Clay.

George looks up at him, tilting his head. "You are?"

Sapnap feels his face flush, and he tries to scramble to explain, suddenly nervous. "Well, I- I mean, I think everyone's a little bi. I don't think anyone's perfectly straight."

"So...you're really just straight?"

Sapnap sighs. He tries to swallow down the jitters in his chest. There's a reason he hasn't told anyone yet; he's still in the process of trying to figure it out himself. He sets down his phone, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the hardwood floor. "Ah, I mean. I-I think girls are sexy. Definitely way more into girls. But uh..." he pauses, forcing a grin to his face, "I've seen a few dudes I'd be down to tap." George snorts at his forwardness, and it boosts his confidence a little. "I guess I'm just not completely apposed to being with a guy, like I guess a 'straight' person would be. Its... still something I'm trying to figure out."

There's a brief silence. George seems to be thinking. "I never even let myself think about it. Am I stupid?"

Sapnap frowns. "No. You're not stupid. The whole idea has been ingrained in our brains since we were born that liking the same sex is taboo. I think it's normal for most people to not even consider it."

George stares at the dining table.

"So. Did you tell him?" Sapnap asks, smiling. Trying to take the subject off of himself.

George flushes. "It might have come up." He says, unable to look at him.

Sapnap grins. "George I'm gonna need more information than that. What happened?"

George shakes his head. "Feelings were reciprocated. That's all you're getting."

Sapnap huffs, "Well I already _knew_ that! The man's been crazy about you for years!"

George looks up at him. "He has?"

"Uh, yeah. That's the main reason he never told you anything, because he was scared he'd spook you off, or loose his chance, assuming he had one."

George's eyebrows furrow as he seems to contemplate that. Sapnap bites his lip. He might have said too much. He's not entirely sure what Dream's ready to disclose or not.

"I uh...maybe don't mention that to him though. Not sure if he'd appreciate me spilling his beans."

George just gives him a small smile. They sit in a short silence.

"Thank you, Nick. For- listening." George speaks up, sounding a little meek, but grateful nonetheless.

Sapnap smiles. "No problem."

Dream returns an hour later, and both George and Sapnap are practically starving as he comes through the door.

"Finally!" George groans, immediately coming up to him and taking the McDonalds bag from his hand. He sets it on the counter, pulling out its contents.

Sapnap grabs the McGriddle and a hash brown.

"Well geez. Thanks for the help." Dream snorts. "We all got McGriddles. I also got a few burritos. Figured we'd still be hungry."

"What...is this?" George eyes the McGriddle.

"Eggs cheese and bacon between two pancakes." Sapnap explains, already eating his.

George takes a bite. He nods. "It's good."

Dream puts the groceries away, and then sighs, grabbing his out of the bag. Sapnap hums, grabbing both their attentions. He pulls the meds out from his pocket, holding them out to Dream. He rolls his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. He lets Sapnap drop them into his hand, and chucks them back with a swig of sprite.

After breakfast they decide to actually leave the house. Dream takes them all fishing in a lagoon. George seems excited, never having fished before. They take Dream's new camera to record and take pictures, figuring it'll be a while till they're all together again like this; might as well capture it.

Sapnap manages to catch a couple bluegills and a sunfish. George catches a single warmouth, frustrated that he can't seem to catch anything. Meanwhile Dream wracks them in: two bass, a small catfish, and a couple sunfish.

"My grandpa would take me fishing every Sunday when I was little." He explained, grinning.

He makes George take a picture with one of the bass he reels up to try and make him feel better about his terrible luck. Dream stands behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and grinning like a 5 year old that still hasn't figured out how smiling works. Sapnap snorts when Dream last minute throws bunny ears up behind George's head.

By the time they get back it's almost 3. Sapnap throws his last load of laundry in the dryer and starts packing his clothes. He takes one last sweep to make sure he has everything before he leaves.

He gives George a hug before he and Dream leave.

"We'll have to all get together sometime. Under different circumstances, of course." he says, glancing at Dream, who scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

The ride to the airport is relatively quiet for the first portion of the ride. Eventually Dream turns down the radio, glancing over at him. Sapnap catches his gaze, and puts down his phone.

"I uh...I haven't really ever thanked you properly, for everything."

Sapnap bites his lip. Shrugs.

"Thank you, really. For everything. I really do appreciate it. You don't have to do what you do but you do anyways. And I'm grateful, to have a friend like you. Thank you."

Once again, Sapnap doesn't really know what to say. He shrugs, offering a smile.

"I'm sorry if I payed more attention to George than I did you this week. I'm grateful for both of you, really-"

"I get it, Dream." He nods. He understands Dream's reasoning behind his actions. "It's perfectly fine. You're just a simp. Everybody knows it." He teases.

Dream smiles, rolling his eyes. There's a brief pause, Taylor Swift faintly playing over the radio.

"You..probably already figured it out, but me and George..." Dream sighs. "We're sort of a thing, now."

Sapnap smiles. "Yeah. George kind of confessed this morning."

Dream cocks an eyebrow. "He did?"

"Well. He came out. Told me he was gay. Or, straight. Said you're his 'exception'." He air quotes, grinning.

Dream snorts, and Sapnap catches a slight blush on his cheeks.

"I asked him if he told you and he said it had come up, and that 'feelings had been reciprocated'. Cryptic as fuck." He laughs.

Dream chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah."

"So you gotta spill the beans man, because George obviously isn't going to."

Dream smiles. "We might have had a make out session." He blushes, and Sapnap playfully shoves him, hitting his shoulder.

"Way to fucking go big man!"

Dream chuckles, freckled cheeks dusting pink.

"Is he any good?"

Dream rolls his eyes, muttering a "my god," under his breath.

"Oh come on man. Give me a little here."

Dream blushes harder, breathing out a "Yes", answering his question.

Sapnap grins. "You gonna take him on a date?"

Dream nods. "Yeah. But I have no clue where."

Sapnap frowns, trying to think of good first dates. "You guys could go see a movie. That's a classic one."

Dream shakes his head, "We could do that at home. I'm thinking dinner somewhere. I just don't know where yet."

"Italian. Italian is always a good option. "

Dream nods. "Very true."

"Ooo. Even better. Take him alligator wrangling. Show him your Florida man skills."

Dream scoffs.

"Recreate that picture from when you were like, 8." He pokes, grinning. 

He remembers Dream explaining that photo, a while ago when it was just the two of them in a discord call. Sapnap knew his mom wasn't the most supportive of his attempts to be a boy, so the fact that he looked like a boy in the picture had always confused him; Dream always said his mother dressed him in pink and wouldn't let him cut his hair. Something like he'd gotten a bad case of lice, and they had to shave his head. And he was spending the weekend with his cousins, and had purposely gotten his clothes dirty so he'd have to borrow his cousin's. Sapnap remembers him saying that that was one of his favorite memories from his childhood; getting to pretend he was a boy for a day.

Dream rolls his eyes. "Highly doubt George would consider that as fun. You saw the way he wouldn't even touch the fishing bait, let alone the fish."

Sapnap laughs. "It would be so funny. Oh! And then you use that photo as your face reveal. The fans would find that hilarious."

Dream shakes his head, changing the subject. "Let me know how much the flight costs you and I'll just Venmo you the money."

Sapnap nods, glancing out the window as they fly down the highway, trying to imagine the face George would make if he was forced to touch an alligator. He's pretty certain George would faint.

"Also let me know how much it cost you to get over here. I might as well pay for a round trip, considering I'm the whole reason you came. Kind of my fault."

That pulls him from his thoughts, and Sapnap shakes his head. "You don't have to do that-"

"It's the least I can do." He cuts him off. "You deserve way more, I hope you know that."

Sapnap bites his lip.

"And if there's anything you ever need, literally anything, let me know. I know money doesn't really substitute everything you've done for me, but if I can help please let me."

Sapnap's speechless.

"I'll buy you a whole new computer, if you want. I'll come visit you, if you want. Anything. You name it."

He just looks at him. "Thanks, man." He says.

Dream smiles, "Thank _you_."

Dream crushes him in a hug before he leaves to get on his plane, thanking him once more. Sapnap tells him to keep him updated, and Dream promises he will.

As the plane takes off Sapnap can't help but feel like he won't be taking many more surprise trips to Orlando. And that's a good thing.

\- - - - - - - - -

She curses her brother, clutching the back of the passenger seat headrest of the Uber, watching as houses pass by.

He's done this to her so many times now, that it shouldn't be a surprise anymore. But they're family. She deserves to know.

"Here, this house," she says, and the Uber pulls over.

"Thank you!" She says, scrambling out of the car with her duffle-bag.

She speed walks to the front door, trying the handle. It's locked, as expected. She checks for the spare key, checking the places he usually hides it. She finds it under the tiny cat statue in the front garden.

She unlocks the door, practically barging into the house, front door flying open.

"CLAY RUE CRAWFORD!" She shouts, storming towards the bedroom and nearly kicking down the door.

She freezes, eyes flickering over the sight in front of her.

Clay scrambles off the boy, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. She glances between them, and her stomach sinks.

_Not again._

"Cassidy- What- What are you doing here?" He breathes, obviously caught off guard. The boy on the bed sits up, covering his face.

She scoffs, "What am I _doing_ here? _Really_?!"

Clay's mouth hangs open, like he's trying to come up with something to say but can't find any words.

"Why do I always end up hearing about this through Nick? What the _hell_ Clay! I'm your _sister_! You're suppose to _call me_!" She shouts.

She told herself she wasn't going to cry, but the tears are already forming, and she's already starting to choke on her words.

"Fucking _call me_ when this happens!" She chokes out.

He comes forward, and she quickly gathers him in a bear hug, squeezing him tight as she cries into his chest. He's shirtless, skin warm. It's comforting, to have him in her arms. To know he's okay; alive and breathing.

"I can't lose you," she finds herself whimpering. He squeezes her.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I- I didn't want to worry you."

She scoffs, "Worry me? This is something I _should_ be worrying about! This isn't like telling me you lost a job, Clay!" She pulls back to look at him.

He sighs. "I'm sorry."

She releases him, pulling away to check him out.

"Have you been eating?" She starts her onslaught of questions. "Taking your meds? Going to therapy? Sleeping?" She brushes his cheek with her thumb, eyeing the slight bags under his eyes. He brushes her away, face screwing up.

"I'm fine Cass-" he starts.

" _Fine_?" She states, lifting up his gauze wrapped wrists.

He bites his lip. "I'm fine _now_." He clarifies.

She huffs. She shakes her head as she eyes him, looking for any signs that he's really not okay. She can't really find anything.

"What happened?" She sighs. "Why didn't you call me? You're suppose to call me, we've talked about this. When you're feeling down-"

"I know-"

"No! You don't! This is important! I love you. You can't be _doing_ this to yourself. I'm trying to help you!"

He sighs.

"And who the hell is this?" She asks, pointing to the boy on his bed, who's pulling on a shirt.

Is this another one of those times where he starts making rash decisions? Gets in people's pants to try and solve (or forget?) his problems? It sure looks like it.

He flushes. "This is, uh, George." He says.

George blushes when she looks at him. "Hi." He says meekly.

She blinks, looking him over. He looks very familiar, and she recognizes the name as someone Clay talks about a lot, but she's still not sure who this person is, or if it's even the same George Clay's always obsessing over and making videos with. Their younger siblings Chloe and Carson would know; they're far more up to date with Clay's YouTube shenanigans than Cassidy is.

"We're talking outside." She decides, pulling Clay out of the bedroom. He starts to complain but she's already closing the door behind them.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" She hisses.

"What?"

"We've been through this before, Clay. Screwing people isn't going to solve your issues. If anything you'll get an STD or get pregnant, and we _both_ know that's a no go."

His face goes bright red, "What? No- George-"

"Why is he here?"

"For me."

She rolls her eyes. "Right. Again. This isn't how you should be dealing-"

"He's the one who called 911." He interrupts her.

She blinks.

"And wouldn't being irresponsible be better than killing myself anyway?" He points out, eyebrows furrowing

She's struck a nerve. And he's not entirely wrong. If she had to choose which she'd prefer, she'd rather him screw around than hurt himself.

"He- he's the one who took you to the hospital?" She says.

He nods. "He's my friend. I've told you about him countless times. We make videos together. He came here to surprise me for my birthday. I wasn't- in a good place. I guess I'm lucky he was here, when it happened."

"But...you guys..."

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. "Uh- yeah. Turns out he likes me too. More than a friend."

She frowns. "I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"I get it." He says. "It wouldn't be the first time."

She bites her lip. She pulls him into a hug. "Please. Next time call me. I'm here for you. It doesn't matter how busy I am or what time. Please just call me. I can't lose you."

He sighs, returning the hug. They stay embraced for a long moment, and tears come back to her eyes.

"Promise me you won't do this again." She whimpers, voice wobbling.

He takes a shaky breath. "You know I can't promise you that."

She huffs. "Then promise to call me. Seek help, first. Please. I can't live with you gone."

He snorts. "Yes you can."

The truth is she can't even imagine what her life would look like without Clay. All she knows is it would be so much less interesting; far less fun and spontaneous. He's her brother; they grew up together. He's a major part of her life. Not having him around would feel like the end of the world. She's not sure she would know what to do with herself.

Despite how upsetting it would be, she tries to joke to lighten the mood. "I'd be so miserable. Stuck with mom."

He smiles sadly. "Fine. I promise."

She holds out her pinky finger, which makes him smile more. He wraps their pinky's together, and she reminds him that he can't break a pinky promise.

"I know," he chuckles.

His laughter makes her smile, and she tries to wipe away her tears. There's a silence between them as he looks at her.

"I am serious about him, Cass." He whispers.

She blinks. "Okay," she breathes, nodding.

He offers a slight smile, and then gives her a good squeeze before letting her go. He opens the bedroom door. George is on the other side, stumbling back as the door opens.

"I- was just about to ask if everything was okay-" he starts, and Clay smiles.

Cassidy's eyebrows raise when she catches his accent; British. She knew George lived in the UK; Clay had told her, but she'd forgotten till just now. Which means he flew all the way from Europe just to come see Clay.

And then another thought; is her brother really stable enough to handle that type of long-distance relationship? He said he was serious.

"Yeah. Everything's good." Clay says, grabbing his shirt off the floor. He throws it back on, and then checks the time on his watch. He turns towards her.

"You hungry?" He asks.

That snaps her from her thoughts, and she smiles. "I could eat a horse."

"Well then. We better get on to making lunch." He says, brushing past her and sending a smile at George.

Cassidy stops George as he comes through the door. She glances towards the kitchen to see Clay opening the fridge. George is looking at her, confused.

"Can I- talk to you?" She whispers.

He nods. She opens the door to Clay's office, peaking back into the Kitchen. Clay is glancing over, and their eyes briefly meet. She sends him a wary smile, slipping into the office. She closes the door behind him.

"I'm sorry I walked in on you guys," she immediately apologizes.

He shrugs, "That's okay," he blushes, "I uh- hadn't realized he didn't tell you guys. I assumed he called."

She sighs. "It's okay. He, does that a lot. Doesn't like to 'worry' us."

He offers a sad smile.

"I haven't even introduced myself. Sorry. I'm Cassidy, Clay's older sister." She says, offering her hand.

"George." He nods, shaking her hand.

She bites her lip for a moment. "I'm sorry I was, rude, earlier. I just assumed you were...one of his flings."

He cocks an eyebrow. "His what?"

She blinks. _Well shit._ "Ahhh, I mean," she sighs. "Sometimes he'll just...sleep around, I guess. As a coping mechanism. Not the best strategy."

George's eyebrows furrow.

She bites her lip. "Listen, I- I didn't mean to, cause an issue- he seems genuinely invested with you. He's talked about you for years," she finds herself rambling. "I mean- god. Just- forget I said anything."

He gives her a tight nod, jaw clenched.

"I also want to thank you, for being here, for him. It means a lot to me. Thank you for helping him. Thank you for staying. It's- he's got a lot stuff on his plate. And it means a lot that you're willing to stay regardless. Thank you, for caring."

He nods. "Of course."

She bites her cheek. Is she really going to do this? She's already ruined things. "Listen, I- I like to see him happy. I really do. And I'd hate to ruin this for you guys, but...I really don't know if he's...stable enough to handle a long distance relationship. I mean, I want him to be, I really really do, I wish the best for you guys, but...he's my brother. And I can't stand to see him get hurt, or hurt himself or others."

George bites his lip, eyebrows furrowed.

"I know that's hard to hear and I wish I didn't have to say it but I do." She says, "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No- you, you're fine. You're just- looking out for him."

She smiles sadly. "Thank you, for understanding."

He nods. Before she can think of anything else there's a call from the kitchen.

"I made BLTs are y'all done in there?"

She sighs, rolling her eyes. She opens the office door. George follows her out, and she nearly steps on Patches, who meows up at her.

"Patches!" She exclaims, bending down to pick her up. "I missed you!" She smiles. She scratches her under the chin, and she purrs.

She watches as Clay wraps an arm around George, pressing a kiss to his hair line.

"You survive her interrogation?" He asks, cracking a smile.

George looks a little distant, and she feels guilt pool in her stomach.

"Uh, y-yeah." He nods. Clay gives him a squeeze, and then hands him a plate with a sandwich.

He mumbles a "thank you" and sits down at the bar. Cassidy presses a kiss to Patches' head before setting her down. She eyes George as he eats silently, and she feels bad that she's obviously got him feeling conflicted.

She takes the last sandwich, sliding into the bar next to George. "I haven't had a BLT in a while," she remarks.

Clay's already chowing his down, halfway done. "So what are your plans?" He asks her.

She shrugs. "I was gonna stay till you forcefully kicked me out."

He frowns. "You were _going_ to?

"Obviously someone has to be here with you. Evidently you can't be left unsupervised." She remarks, sending him a look. "But since George is here it depends how long he plans on staying."

They both seem to tense. Apparently they haven't had that discussion yet; how they were going to work out a transatlantic relationship. She sighs.

"I got all my classes transferred to online, so I can stay here indefinitely." 

Clay frowns. "I don't need a babysitter." he mutters.

George snorts. "Yeah you do," he says, and Cassidy senses a little hostility in his voice.

She hums. "You can't be trusted anymore." She says.

He huffs. "Well I guess this ruins date night."

She frowns. "You guys were going on a date? You guys can still go. I'm fine here. Unless you weren't going out-"

"It's fine, Cass," Clay says, but she knows it's not fine.

"No, seriously. Don't let me stop you." She urges. She already feels guilty for what she's said to George. She doesn't want to ruin them anymore than she might already have.

Clay sighs. "We'll probably be out late," he says.

She shrugs. "That's fine with me. As long as you guys aren't loud when you come home, I'll be lights out for the night."

"You are a pretty heavy sleeper." Clay grins.

She rolls her eyes.

They finish lunch, and Clay remembers he has to get his stitches out today. They pack into his car, Cassidy shoved in the backseat. Clay holds George's hand all the way to the hospital, thumb brushing over his knuckles. She can't help but notice the way he looks over at him, smile brighter than she's seen it in a _very _long time. She feels guilt pool in her stomach when she recognizes the look in his eyes as he looks at him; pure bliss. _Love_. He wasn't kidding when he said he was serious about him.__

____

Cassidy tries to prepare herself as the nurse unwraps his wrists. The sight is still a punch to the gut. Cassidy frowns when she sees the many scars across his wrists, the most recent still angry looking. George takes a heavy breath, air hitching in his throat. He turns away, covering his mouth. She bites her lip, glancing over at him. He shakes his head, eye's squeezing closed. And then suddenly he's pushing past her out of the room.

____

"I'm sorry," he forces out, slipping out the door.

____

Clay meets her eyes, worry on his face. She knows what he's asking of her; _check on him, please_? She glances down at the red scars across his wrists. And she decides she can't be in the room either, gut flipping. She knew he had really tried this time. Nick had explained it a little over the phone, saying it was worse than usual. But it's still shocking.

____

George is sitting on the ground against the wall outside the door, knees curled to his chest, head hidden by his arms. She brushes his shoulder, and he jumps, looking up. She frowns when she sees the tears on his cheeks. He looks the other way, obviously trying to wipe his tears. She takes a seat next to him, sucking at her lip. She's not sure what to say to him.

____

She can't even imagine how terrifying it would have been to find Clay like that. His wrists are even healed- she can't imagine how horrifying it was before, with open bloody gashes. Not so much because it's gruesome, but because of what it represents. How scary it would be knowing he did that to himself, to try and kill himself. To see him hurt that bad.

____

"You...okay?" she asks.

____

He takes a breath. "Ah, no." he swallows. "No I'm not."

____

She nods, staring at the floor. They don't speak.

____

"I couldn't look anymore. Just...reminded me of that night." He finally says.

____

She shakes her head. "That must have been terrifying." She whispers.

____

He stares across the hall at the wall. "I thought I was going to lose him." he says, voice weak.

____

She swallows. She feels emotion tightening up her throat, her own tears threatening to fall. It's scary. To think she could have lost him. 

____

"Thank you," she says, brushing his shoulder, "I know I already thanked you earlier but...still. Thank you, so much."

____

He glances over at her, mouth open slightly. He nods, looking back at the wall. She pulls her hand away. There's another moment of silence. And then George curses, a sob bubbling through his lips. She feels her heart clench, a tear slipping down her own cheek.

____

Suddenly Clay is walking out of the room, catching both their attention.

____

"You guys ready...to go..." He trails off when he sees both of them. He frowns.

____

George gasps, looking up at him. Clay barely starts to offer a hug, and George is already standing up to crush him close. His shoulders shake, crying into Clay's shoulder. Clay frowns, pulling him close and whispering quiet apologies into his hair. Cassidy feels like she shouldn't be here. Like she's intruding. For the second time today.

____

The car ride is silent. A contrast to before, where they were all chatting and laughing. George has his right hand in his lap, staring at his wrist, thumb brushing over the scars. The moment they get home they both disappear into the bedroom. Cassidy can hear them whispering, but tries her best not to listen. Instead she curls up on the couch, turning on the TV to find something to watch. Eventually they reemerge, Clay's face brighter. George trails after him like a lost puppy, clutching at his right hand. They join her on the couch, and they all watch a random show for about an hour until George starts to get anxious about their date, twiddling his thumbs and running a hand through his hair. Asking Clay where they're going. How he should dress.

____

Clay vaguely answers his questions. "Wear whatever you want," he smiles, pulling him into a hug and placing a kiss on his nose.

____

She forces Clay to give her a hug before they go, needing one after the hospital visit (George had sort of hogged him). Once they leave the house gets quiet. And then she starts her search; looking for anything he could use to hurt himself. Going through his pill cabinet and the kitchen cupboards. It seems like George and Nick did a good job of already confiscating everything.

____

Patches seems to be calling her back to the couch, so she decides to relax.

____

_It's okay; Clay is alive and breathing. Looks happy, even. Everything is okay._

____


	6. U-Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night takes a u-turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee wooo weee wooo!!  
> This chapter is pretty heavy!!! (like, super duper, whale sized tons)
> 
> TW//: self harm, blood, attempted suicide, panic attack, self hatred, dark thoughts, homophobia&transphobia, self starvation, 
> 
> Take care of yourselves. <3

He's excited. It's been years since he's been to the drive in theater. He had originally intended to bring George to a nice restaurant, probably Italian like Nick had suggested, but then he'd remembered that George only has like three outfits with him; none of which are formal in any regard. So dinner plans quickly got scrapped.

He's planned out their whole night. First they're going to go get ice cream. Then they're going over to a friends to borrow his van. Drive to the drive in theater. George will have no clue what's going on. They'll park, pop the trunk, fold down the back seats, and lay down the pillows and blankets. Watch the sunset. Cuddle and eat popcorn (or other concession stand junk food) and watch a movie. And then maybe once it's over they'll stick around and watch another. It'll be perfect.

But George has been awfully quite today, and not like he's just shy with Cassidy being here. Like there's something on his mind.

He briefly glances away from the road to look at him. He's staring out the window, shoulders slumped.

"What's going on?" He finally asks.

George sighs. "I...Cassidy mentioned you having flings." He says.

Dream groans, running a hand over his face. "It's not like what it sounds like."

"Really? Because she sort of made it sound like you just sleep around with whom ever."

"It's not- like that."

He nods, obviously not buying it.

"Okay. Fine. I do, sometimes. Try to get my mind off things. Instead of cutting, or...whatever. But I don't do it often."

"So you lied, when you said you've only been with four people."

Dream sighs. "No, I never lied. I meant I've been in four serious relationships, where things got...sexual. But...as for how many people I've had sex with...I'm not sure. 12, maybe?"

George runs a hand over his face.

"You're not- you're not a fling, George. I- I'm serious, about you. Have been for years." He says, reaching for his hand.

George is silent.

"Please say something." He squeezes his hand.

He shakes his head. "I'm just. Shocked. Feel betrayed, even though I know I shouldn't. It doesn't matter. You can do whatever you want."

Dream bites his lip. "I wouldn't use you like that George, to just get over my problems. I promise."

He nods, tight lipped. It's silent again, and Dream can tell there's something else bothering him.

"George," he says.

George is looking out the window.

"George what is it?"

He takes a shaky breath. "Maybe...maybe we shouldn't." He says, voice breaking.

"What- What do you mean?" Dream feels his heart start to race, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. Be, together."

Dream pulls the car over onto the shoulder, hands starting to shake. He takes a shaky breath, stomach doing flips.

"W-why. George. Really?"

George won't look at him. He reaches out, turning his face to look at him. He's crying.

"George. What's going on?"

George shakes his head, trying to pull away.

"George why would you say that?" He feels tears forcing their way forward, eyes burning.

This always happens to him. How could he not see this coming? They always realize it's too much; he has too much baggage. And so they leave.

"I'm sorry," George cries.

Dream tries to compose himself. Act like his heart isn't completely shattered. Like he isn't devastated.

"Fine." He says, pulling his hand away. "If I'm too much for you then you can leave."

George is shaking his head. "No- you're not I just- I don't want to hurt you."

Dream scoffs, because that's so ironic. Like he isn't hurting him now.

"I'm doing this because I care." He tries to explain.

"How? How is this you caring?" He snaps, turning to look at him.

George's mouth opens and closes as he catches the tears in his eyes.

"I- I don't want to hurt you. In the future. If we don't work out. I don't want to break your heart."

"You already are." He breathes. "You can't just tease me like this George. That's not fair."

"Well what else am I suppose to do? I've already told you how I feel. I can't go back in time and take it back so we wouldn't be in this situation."

And that hurts in of itself; that he'd take it back. He regrets saying anything. He shakes his head, unable to look at him. This doesn't feel real. It can't be real.

"I just, don't think I can handle a long distance relationship Dream. I-I'm sorry." He tries to explain.

But he knows what the real reason is. It's because George doesn't want to be responsible for him. He doesn't want to have to worry. He's saving himself.

And Dream can't really blame him either. He wishes he could do the same; not have to deal with himself.

"I'm so sorry," he says again, grabbing his hand. Dream pulls away.

He closes his eyes. Takes a breath. He takes the car out of park, pulling back onto the highway. They drive in silence. He makes a u-turn at the next intersection, heading back home.

"I'm sorry," George cries.

Dream grits his teeth. "I want you out of the house by tomorrow." He says.

George looks at him, shocked. "What-I-"

"I don't want you in my house!" He shouts, unable to hold back.

That shuts George up. He swallows, and then looks out the window.

The rest of the drive is suffocatingly silent. Dream pulls into the garage. He gets out, ignoring George's "Dream", and slamming the garage door behind him.

Cassidy jumps, standing up from the couch as he storms towards the bathroom.

"What- What happened?"

He doesn't answer her. He locks himself in the bathroom, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. He doesn't want to speak to either of them.

His heart feels like it's bleeding his chest. Thick and heavy. A hollowness quickly gathering at the bottom of his stomach and threading to consume him.

He hears them whispering in the kitchen. He can't make out what they're saying, but George sounds distraught.

He doesn't care.

He knows they confiscated his stash, but he searches for something anyways.

"Clay," he hears Cassidy from the other side of the door. "Let's talk about this."

He doesn't respond, finding a shaving razor in the shower.

Jackpot.

He knows he can't try anything too crazy, no matter how much he wants to. While he's angry with George he'd hate to be the person who threatens suicide. George doesn't deserve that sort of manipulation, however tempting it is.

"Clay please open the door." She says.

He works on breaking the frame, hissing when he stabs his thumb.

"Clay what are you doing?" She asks.

"Go away," he grumbles, tears welling up in his eyes.

**[self harm/bad thoughts warning- you can skip this part]**

He manages to snap one of the blades free. His fingers are already bleeding. He picks it up, holding the thin piece of metal between his thumb and index. He stares at the cross hatching of scars on his pale wrists.

He's tempted to just end it. They can't get in. Nows his chance.

No matter what he does, no one ever wants to stay with him. There's just too much wrong with him. He's too screwed up in the head. Has too much baggage.

No one could ever love someone like him.

"Clay open this door right now," Cassidy demands from the other side, and he catches the slight panic in her voice.

He's falling back down that dark hole. Allowing it to swallow him whole. Not even attempting to crawl out or fight against it. Dark thoughts lashing out at his consciousness like a wicked sea monster. Like a parasite forever stuck in his brain.

He holds the blade tighter, bringing it down on the tender skin of his wrist. Drawing it across. Gritting his teeth as he forces it deeper. He watches as blood swells up.

"Clay!" She shouts. "What are you doing in there?"

He doesn't respond, trying to zone her out.

He really would be better off dead.

She pounds on the door. "Clay! Seriously!" When he doesn't respond he hears her tell George to try the other doors.

The doorknob to his bedroom jiggles.

"It's locked."

"Try the other one!"

He watches as the blood wells up. A tear slips off his chin, landing on his arm. He wipes at it. Takes the razor and cuts there instead.

"They're both locked."

"Fuck." She curses. She tries the door one more time, and he closes his eyes as pain blossoms across his arm as he runs the razor over his skin, criss crossing over other scars.

For years. For _years_. He obsessed over George. Let his mind run rampant with imagination. Let his heart yearn to be touched and loved by him. Stayed up late at night with racing thoughts, heart clenching in his chest from desire. Swoon over the sound of his laughter and the brightness of his smile.

Only for all his dreams to come true. Like a princess fairytale. Like something from a movie.

And he just let himself run with it. Absolutely take off with the new found possibly. Everything he'd been hounding over for _years_ ; _finally_ , true.

Only for it to be ripped away from him just as quickly as it came.

It's not fair. It's so incredibly not fair.

It hurts so much. Like years of his life, being erased away. Was it even worth it? To spend so much time letting himself obsess over him? To even let himself feel so much genuine happiness when fiction became reality?

Why didn't he see this coming? This always happens to him. How could he let himself do this?

He feels so empty, and yet so incredibly chalked full of a heaviness. Swamped with grief and heartbreak. It makes his entire body hurt. His chest sink so much that he can barely breathe.

He's sobbing. Uncontrollably. But he can't even notice.

"Clay _please_ ," she pleads. "Please don't hurt yourself."

He feels his heart break all over again when he hears George beg from outside.

"Dream _please_."

He sounds distraught. It hurts to hear him like that.

"Please open the door," he pleads. "I'm sorry I said those things. I shouldn't have. I take them back. Please just open the door."

He's lying. He knows he's lying. He has to be. If he didn't mean them he wouldn't have said them.

"Dream please," he hears him cry.

He eyes his freshest scars. Oh so tempted to cut them back open.

He should die. It's just better, that way. Easier. What's even the point, anymore? He spent so long obsessing with this one thing. And now he's lost it.

It wouldn't even be that big of deal, had him and George never been a thing in the first place. If he'd kissed him, and George had just turned him down. Yeah, the rejecting would have felt like absolute hell, but it still wouldn't be nearly as bad as this. Because now he knows what it feels like. To really have him in his arms. To kiss him. Hold him. He's lost more than just years of pining after him.

Death just seems inevitable. He'll die eventually. He's not sure he can live with this kind of heartbreak. He's not sure he should. Would a life without George even be worth living? What else could this fucked up world even offer him at this point? All he can imagine is just more pain and suffering. What would he even do, with his life? What would he even have to offer the world? More stupid Minecraft videos?

And when he's 30 and totally done with YouTube and Minecraft, what then?

It's stupid. To want to die over a boy. But he can't imagine it getting any better. He's not sure he's ever been so passionate about something in his whole life, other than George. Which is even more stupid.

He's just stupid. In general. Just one of the many reasons that he shouldn't be here. Why the hell is even even still alive? He hates himself. What kind of life can he live when he hates his own guts? Hates his mind. Hates his hair. Hates his ass, hates his thighs. Hates every little part of himself that just _shouldn't be there_. Hates the roundness of his face. Hates his scars. Hates his chest. Hates his voice, hates his chin; the list never ends.

He's pressing the blade to his newest scars, already starting to slice at it when the doorknob jiggles, and suddenly Cassidy's bursting through the door.

"Clay," she breathes, looking at his wrists.

She snatches the razor blade from his hand, throwing it on the floor. She grabs his hands, eyes welling up with tears. He bites his lip, closing his eyes as she pulls him towards the sink.

**[end of warning]**

"I- I'm so sorry," he hears George breath.

"Just- leave!" Cassidy shouts, turning around to glare at him.

Dream watches as he blinks, mouth open. He turns around, and disappears from the hallway.

Cassidy rinses his arms. Inspects the cuts. He hadn't cut deep enough to need stitches. If she'd taken any longer they'd be on the way to the hospital.

For the second time in just over a week.

She places the hand towel over his arms, squeezing over them to dry them off. She pulls them towards the cabinet. She rummages through all the first aid- bandaids, wraps, creams.

She pulls off the towel, and uses it to dap some hydrogen peroxide over his cuts. He hisses when it stings, jerking away. She grasps his hand, pulling him close, grip tight.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

She pauses, looking up at him. Tears are running down both their cheeks. She opens her mouth, like she's about to say something, but then she closes it, looking back down at his arms.

She slathers Neosporin over the cuts, and then wraps him up with the last of the gauze roll. She rips off a piece of bandage tape, slapping it down to keep the gauze in place.

Meanwhile, George paces on the porch, gripping and pulling at his hair.

What was he thinking? He shouldn't have let Cassidy get to him.

But she was right.

He curses. He's shaking. Heart racing. Tears springing up in his eyes. He finds himself pulling out his phone. He calls Sapnap.

It goes to voicemail. He tries him again. It takes a moment, but he finally answers.

"What?" He snaps.

"Nick I fucked up."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Cassidy's here- she- I fucked up so bad." He cries.

"George what's going on? Are you, _crying_?"

"She told me she didn't think Clay could mentally handle a long distance relationship, so I- I cut it off, _fuck_." He curses.

"You- _What_?"

"I broke up with him! And now he's locked himself in the bathroom and cut himself again- I can't-"

"Fuck," Sapnap whispers.

"He and Cassidy kicked me out."

Sapnap is silent on the other side.

"Nick? Please. What should I do I can't- he's hurting himself because of me."

Nick sighs. "George, I...I don't know what to tell you. What happened? Did he threaten to kill himself if you left?"

"No." George shakes his head.

"But he tried to?"

"Yes."

Nick takes a breath on the other side. "Did you, want to break up with him? Why did you?"

"Hell no. I- I don't want to leave him. He's- fuck. I've fucked up cant I just take it back?"

"What? No. You can't take it back. Why did you even break up with him if you didn't want to?"

"I-I don't want to hurt him. What if she's right? What if he can't handle a long distance relationship? How can I handle not being here, without being able to make sure he doesn't hurt himself? I- and if things ever didn't work out- how, how would he react? I can't break his heart."

"George." He breathes. "Hate to break it to you, but I think you already did."

George sighs, "God I'm so stupid."

"No, I...you have a good point. I think, you were just looking out for him. It just backfired on you."

George feels a little better hearing that; that someone understands why he did this, even if he regrets it now.

"What do I do?" He whispers, running a hand through his hair.

Sapnap sighs. "I think. Maybe you should just go. Let Cassidy take care of him. He'll get over it, eventually. It's probably better if you go home. Forget about it. Don't worry about him. It's- it won't do you any good to stay there and feel guilty. Worry about yourself."

George closes his eyes.

This isn't how he wanted things to happen. It hurts.

"Isn't that selfish?"

"I mean. Yes. But your mental health matters too. He may not be doing it on purpose, but he's going to create a toxic situation if you stay."

George runs a hand over his face. He's not wrong.

"Okay." He sighs, and he feels his heart drop.

"Call me. Keep me updated."

"I will." He sighs.

\- - - - - - - - -

Cassidy places the plate of pancakes in front of him.

It's been over a week. And he's barely said anything.

There's been a few more scares. He got into the fishing tackle box. Luckily she caught him before he could do anything major.

She's scoured the house over and over, taking anything she could imagine him using to hurt himself. She removed all the doors in the house so he can't lock himself away. Unplugged anything with cords, hiding them so he can't use them to try anything. Removed anything remotely sharp. Replaced all the silverware with plastic baby utensils. She's basically turned the house into a mental institution.

He stares absently at the stack of pancakes.

"Please eat." She pleads.

He's barely moved or eaten since George left. It's like he's withering away in front of her. And it's terrifying.

He's silent. She feels herself starting to cry.

She still hasn't called mom, or their step dad, or grandparents- any family. She doesn't want to bother them. Their siblings are too young to be so aware of how bad it really is. Their parents refuse to accept him as pans and trans. Grandparents unwilling to accept any of it; trans and mental issues. She knows having any of them interfere would only make things worse. So it's all her. She's all he really has. All he can really stand to have around him.

"Clay." She reaches forward, taking his hand. That seems to snap him out of his trance. He looks up at her, dirty green eyes dull.

"Please." She whispers. He looks down at the pancakes in front of him. "Please eat."

Her friends keep telling her to take him to a facility. Have him institutionalized. Telling her their worried for her, afraid she's going to run herself ragged.

But she can't stand to do that to him. Her parents did that to him when he was younger. And he hated it. Came back worse than before. It wasn't until years later that he finally told them what they did to him; gay conversion therapy.

It makes her skin crawl. She can't do it to him. Even if they accept him for being himself, she knows it will still haunt him. He wouldn't get better.

Her fiancé keeps pleading with her to at least let him come down and help. But he's in the middle of an important court case; something she knows he can't just up and leave. So she keeps telling him no. That, and she's afraid how it will make Clay feel. Afraid it will be like rubbing it in his face: _I have a boyfriend and you don't_.

He picks up the fork, and she feels relief flood through her when he cuts the pancake, taking a small bite.

He manages to eat half of a pancake. She urges him to eat more.

"I'm not hungry." He whispers.

And she knows it's a lie. He has to be starving. But she decides to let it go. He ate more than he has been eating. That's all she can really ask for at a time like this.

Even Nick has offered to come help her, bless his soul. But she's been telling him no. Clay's given the kid enough heart attacks. So she hasn't been telling him how bad it really is, because she knows he'll come in a heartbeat.

He slides from the table, sulking back to the bedroom. That's where he's been staying; in bed, until she forcefully drags him out.

She's even had to force him to take a shower, and she's gotten close to having to clean him herself.

Oh the things she does for him.

She's been trying desperately to get him out of the house. To see the world. He's just in the worst slump, and she can't seem to get it out of him. She knows it's probably just a matter of time. But it's still hard.

As the days pass he gradually starts to eat more, but it comes and goes in waves. Some days are better than others. Some days it's like they've made no progress. Some days he's halfway to his normal self.

By the end of the month she's absolutely exhausted. Barely eating herself. Sleep deprived. Her friends have taken turns coming down to help her, but none of them were able to really stay. They say it's because they have other obligations; that they wish they could stay and help. But she knows the truth is that they just can't handle it. To deal with someone struggling this hard.

She appreciates it regardless.

Her fiancé comes down, and stays for the next couple months. He's a lot less willing to let Clay just sit around. He forces him to come shoot hoops with him. Go work out at the gym. Go grocery shopping. Clean the house. Things Cassidy has lost her will to force upon him.

She's finally able to sleep and eat again. Clay's getting better. Finally starting to come out of it.

But she's not sure if she'll ever be able to leave him alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof that was gloomy. Sowwie. Have this little jokie:
> 
> What sort of hair do they sell at IHOP?
> 
> Eggstensions...
> 
> (I didn’t say it was a good joke)   
> Next chapter is better I promise.


	7. Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George takes drastic measures to try and fix his mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think...this one might not have any TW...I don’t think it does...
> 
> This one's a little cheesy ya'll. :/

George stares at the discord.

Dream hasn't uploaded in almost four months. Hasn't said anything on social media. George has had to stop streaming, despite how much he wants to; his entire chat just asking where Dream's at. If he's okay. Same with both his and Sapnap's comment sections.

George hasn't talked to him since. Nick says he hasn't been able to get a hold of him either, but that he's been talking to Cassidy and she says he's doing much better.

He hasn't shown up on the server, or on discord. Anywhere: he's absent.

Except for now. He's on discord, in a call with Sapnap.

George wants so desperately to call him. Talk to him. Tell him he's sorry. Beg him to take him back.

He's been struggling himself. Unable to get his mind off of him. His heart aching. Mind reminding him of the feeling of his lips on his, at the most inopportune times.

He regrets it so much.

There's times when he can't fall asleep. Too worried about him. Staring at his phone. Waiting for a call from someone telling him he's hurt himself, or worse.

His mind races over where they'd be now if he hadn't been so stupid. He'd drop everything just to see him again. Talk to him. Have him in his arms.

But he can't. What if he's just now getting better? And George drags him back down that hole. He can't handle that. Not again.

So he ignores it. Clicks off of discord. Decides to go to bed instead.

He doesn't fall asleep.

\- - - - - - - - - -

He messages Nick on discord. He responds almost immediately.

_[S] Woah. Dude. What's up?_

_[D] Not much. Do you want to record a video?_

_[S] Uh...sure._

He calls him. He immediately answers.

"Bro. What's been going on?"

Dream sighs. "Eh...not much. Just...slumming around."

"How've...you been feeling?"

"Uh. Better, I guess. It's still...rough. Life still sucks. I just... really felt like playing some Minecraft."

"Yeah, okay."

Dream quickly starts up a server, and they decide to just try speed running the game; see how fast they can beat it together.

They have a lot of fun. Constantly laughing at each other. It does make Dream feel better; he hasn't laughed in months. It feels good.

"Thanks, man."

"It's nothing." Nick says.

Midway through Cassidy pokes her head in, sending him a confused look.

"Who are you talking to?" She whispers.

"I'm playing with Nick. We're recording." Dream says.

She opens her mouth in surprise, "Oh! _Well_." She smiles, turning around and pulling the door shut behind her. "Have fun."

Dream bites his lip. Suddenly Nick's screaming " _no!_ " through his headset, and the notification that he was killed by a skeleton pops up in chat.

"Sapnap! _No_!"

"That skeleton had pro moves dude what the hell! He wasn't even aiming at me!"

Dream chuckles. "This was a crap seed anyways," he sighs.

They start up a new world. This time they get an incredibly lucky seed, with a village right next to a lava pool, and a nether fortress almost immediately outside the portal. Sapnap gets several lucky piglin trades, and they're already heading for the end at just over ten minuets.

As fun as it is, Dream can't help but feel like it's just not the same, without George. He tries not to think about it. He doesn't want to think about it; George is all he's been able to think about for months. He wants something else.

"You okay bro?" Nick asks, pulling him from his thoughts.

Dream realizes he's holding the pearls. Nick's waiting for him to place them in the portal.

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"You got all quiet there."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

They continue. They beat the dragon for a time of 21 minuets and 46 seconds. Dream can't help but feel like he could've gotten a world record if he wasn't rusty and was playing by himself. Nick is absolutely ecstatic at their time. They talk for a little longer, until Nick says he has to go.

"Talk with you later?" He asks.

"Yeah. Definitely." Dream says.

He decides he might as well start editing the video, opening up his editing program. He's buried deep in cutting and trimming clips when Jackson walks in, glancing at him.

They finally put all the doors back on the hinges, despite Cassidy's protests. Jackson had vouched for him, saying he deserved some privacy. Dream also figures he wanted it for himself too; there had been a little too many times when they'd walked in on each other in the bathroom.

"What...are you doing?" He asks.

"Editing a video."

"Oh?" He asks. Sitting down on the futon.

"You guys can have my bed for the night. I think I'm gonna stay up to get this out."

Jackson cocks an eyebrow. "Oh. Okay."

There's a silence.

"So. Does this mean you're feeling back to normal?" He asks.

Dream shrugs. "I don't know."

He still hasn't been able to really figure Jackson out. The man's pretty good at hiding his opinions and biases. Dream can't tell what he thinks about him; if he thinks he's pathetic for getting so caught up over a boy, or if he thinks he's mentally insane, or if he's fed up with him after having to deal with him for so long. Dream guesses his ability to hide his judgment is partially what makes him such a good lawyer.

"Hey, uh. I just wanted to thank you." He says, spinning around in his chair to look at him. "For helping me. I know you really just came to help Cassidy, but I'm glad you came. She- she needed someone to help her. I'm, sort of a lot. So...thank you. For everything."

He offers a smile. "Of course. Can't let my future brother-in-law drive my fiancé crazy." He teases.

Dream smiles. Jackson pats him on the shoulder. "Glad you're feeling better. And I will definitely take you up on that offer. That futon is only comfy for so long. Also, Cass made lasagna. And she seems very proud of herself, so you better get in there and eat at least two pieces regardless of how terrible it might taste."

Dream snorts. "Right. I'll be out in a minuet."

He gets to a good stopping point, and then joins them. He grabs a plate, scooping out a big piece. Cassidy grins wide when he sits down across from them.

"What?" He asks.

"So...you're recording again." She smiles.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah."

He takes a bite. It's actually good.

"Is this...grandma's recipe?"

"You're favorite? Yes." She nods, and he realizes she's waiting for him to give her praise.

"It's really good. Could use a bit more cream cheese, but its good."

She beams.

He finishes his plate, and Jackson eyes him. Jackson's been adamant about getting him to eat enough. It's still something Dream's struggling with. That and sleeping.

He grabs another slice. Forces himself to eat it. Jackson watches him, and Dream sighs. He cleans his plate, feeling absolutely stuffed.

He places the plate in the sink, and for once Jackson doesn't nag him about doing the dishes.

He goes back to editing his video. When he's done cutting out clips he realizes he has to say something about why he's been gone for so long. Nick had mentioned during their recording session that the fans had been driving him crazy with their questions.

He decides to record a short clip. Doesn't tell them everything, just explains he wasn't in a good place mentally for a while. That he had to take a longer break than he was expecting. Tells them that's he's still recovering; to not expect a regular upload schedule for a while still. He has to re-take it several times before he's satisfied with it, finally deciding he can just chop it all together the way he wants it.

By the time he completely finishes editing its almost 3 am. But he's still wide awake. He makes a thumbnail, and then watches through the video one last time to make sure he didn't leave anything in that he didn't want to. He decides to upload it when he finds it perfect.

He checks discord, eyeing George's contact. He's on. He checks Twitch. He's streaming. He hasn't streamed in over a month. Partially because all he gets asked anymore is "where is Dream?"; something Nick had talked to him about.

He's tempted to call him. He wants to talk to him.

He knows it's probably a terrible idea. That it'll only send him back down the hole he's finally starting to climb out of. But he just wants to hear his voice.

He's watched the videos on the video camera George got him for his birthday about a million times. He knows them word for word. He's watched as Nick captures the moment George reels up the tiny warmouth, face falling in disappointment; he thought he'd caught something huge. Swiping past the laughter and scrubbing through the videos until he stops at the parts when George is smiling. Rolling his eyes. Laughing. The brief frame in one where Nick just managed to catch the moment George brushed a piece of hair out of Dream's face.

It takes him back to that moment every single time. Standing at the end of the old creaky peer. Florida sun hot on their shoulders. Humidity high. Mosquitos swarming and biting the shit out of their ankles. The thick and funky smell of swamp and marsh surrounding them. But George standing next to him, a soft smile on his face. Dark brown eyes shining in the sun as he glances up at him. A hand carefully coming up to brush the frizzing hair out of Dream's eyes. Stalling as his thumb brushes his jaw; almost like he was debating leaning in and capturing his lips. Instead he just smiled, scooting closer to brush shoulders with him and glancing back out at the lagoon.

It was such a simple moment. He'd completely forgotten about it until he was looking through the camera. But now Dream can't stop thinking about it. It plagues his mind. So simple. Yet so perfect. What he'd give to go back and relive just that moment. Sure, a kiss would be great. But to just be next him, content with life. That's what he really wants.

Which always hurts. It's like torture, watching the videos back. Be he finds himself doing it anyway. Over and over and over again. Bringing tears back to his eyes. Making his heart break all over again.

But now it's like he wants a different kind of torture. Rewatching the videos aren't enough anymore. He wants more. To be able to hear him say more than just "what the bloody hell is this?" As he reels in a tiny ass fish. Or a "holy cow!" As Dream pulls in yet another bass. Remarking a stupid "are you feeling sunny or blue?" to Nick when he yanks up yet another sunfish after several bluegills.

He settles on watching his stream instead. Figures it's a safer bet than joining him in a call. Especially if he's streaming right now. George is talking to Quackity.

His heart aches when he laughs, looking as adorable as ever when he smiles.

He curses, running his hands over his face. His heart is screaming. It's making he feel like shit. This was a terrible idea. Way worse than the fishing videos.

He's about to click off when George frowns. "Wait- where'd everyone go?"

Quackity scoffs, "You just lost like 35 thousand viewers! What just happened?"

George pauses what he's doing, obviously moving to scroll through chat and look at his discord.

"Dream uploaded." He says.

Dream switches tabs, seeing that his video just went out a couple minutes ago.

"He did? He hasn't uploaded in months." Quackity says.

"Yeah. Hence why everyone's left." George scoffs. "I guess the stream's over then."

Dream momentarily feels bad. He ruined his stream.

George wraps it up, saying bye to the few people who stuck around. He raids Philza, and Dream clicks off the stream.

He wants so badly to talk to him. He knows it's a terrible idea. If just watching his stream was bad, he can't even imagine how terrible actually speaking to him would be.

And then suddenly he accidentally clicks on the call button instead of clicking away. He curses as soon as he realizes what he's done. George answers before he can hang up.

"...Clay?" He asks.

Dream slouches in his chair, covering his mouth.

"Hello? Clay?"

"Uh, hi." He breathes.

"Is...everything okay?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. I uh. Just wanted to say sorry for ruining your stream." He says, trying to cover up his mistake.

"Oh. It's fine."

There's a silence.

"How uh, are you doing?" He asks.

"I'm...getting better."

"Is Cassidy still there?"

"Uh, yeah. She and her fiancé have been staying with me for a while."

There's a pause.

"How-how are you?" Dream asks. He mentally curses himself. Does he really want to hear the answer to that question?

"Oh, uh...I'm, fine. I guess. I've been better."

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah."

Another pause.

"Listen, Dream I want to apologize, for...for everything. I- I shouldn't have- shit. I mean-" he huffs. "Screw it. I regret everything. I- I wish I hadn't said anything. I shouldn't have cut us off. I shouldn't have just left. I'm so sorry."

Dream bites his lip. Is he for real right now? He's not just playing with his emotions again?

"What- What are you trying to say?"

"I..." there's a long pause.

"I can't sleep, Dream. I can't eat. I- all I can think about, is you. Fuck that's so cheesy- I mean, I- I miss you. I want you back. Please."

Dream's initial reaction is to say yes. Accept him. Because he wants that more than anything. But he holds himself back, as hard as it is.

"Why...why would I do that?"

George sighs. "I- I don't know."

There's a silence.

"George you broke my heart." He whispers.

"I'm so sorry," he starts again, and Dream thinks he hears him cry.

"I- I loved you, George. I was too scared to say it. But I love you. Have for years. And then you just- you just crushed me." He can't really believe he just admitted that.

His chest squeezes. He's been holding that in for years. A strange sort of anxiety rises up his throat, one that has him dreading what ever George is about to say next, and wishing he hadn't said anything at all. And yet at the same time he finds himself not really caring; his relationship with George is already fucked. There's not much else he could do to make things worse.

George is quiet. Dream hears a faint "fuck" in his headset.

"I'm so sorry." He whimpers. "I- I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't. I can't- I was afraid if we continued, I'd mess up somehow and leave you heartbroken and I- I couldn't do that. I thought cutting it off sooner would just be better. Like it wouldn't hurt as much. I'm so sorry."

Dream bites his lip.

"I- I was trying to avoid exactly what happened." George says. "I didn't want you to hurt yourself over me, because I- I can't loose you, Clay. I just- I can't."

Dream runs his hands over his face. It's so hard to hear him say that.

"I can't do that again. I couldn't stand to know that it could happen again, that you'd be bleeding in the bathroom, trying to kill yourself. And I- Cassidy, she- she got to me. She said she wasn't sure if you could handle a long distance relationship and I- I thought maybe she was right. And it made me realize I couldn't handle it either. I can't leave you, without knowing that you'll be okay, that you won't hurt yourself if I'm not there. I can't stop _worrying-"_

"But you did leave me George." He interrupts him.

George pauses. "I..." he sighs. "I know. You- you told me to go, and I didn't want to but Cassidy-" he sighs. "I can't blame her. I did leave. I left because I thought maybe it'd just be better that way."

Dream swallows down the tightness in his throat. "It wasn't."

George takes a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry."

Dream licks his lips. "How do I know you wouldn't just, do it again?" A part of him can't believe he's so against taking him back. Why not just say yes?

And put himself through hell all over again? Is he insane?

Maybe that's a bad question. He is insane. This is a known fact.

"I won't. I can't."

Dream runs a hand through his hair. "I don't think it's a good idea, George." He says, more to himself than to George. "You- I don't want to put you in that situation. You shouldn't have to deal with me. You shouldn't- have to worry. I'm a mess. You deserve someone better."

And it's true. It's something he's definitely come to terms with; George is out of his league. He deserves more than a trans man's emotional baggage. He shouldn't have to deal with his issues. He deserves so much more than to be held down by Dream's insecurities.

"I don't want anyone else." He says.

That makes Dream's heart speed up. The knot in his throat squeezing harder.

"I- it's better this way."

"No. _Please_ Clay."

"You said it yourself, George. You can't stand the idea of me hurting myself. I'm never going to be able to not hate myself. I'm always going to be an issue for you. You don't really want this."

"Yes I _do_ , Clay. I _really_ do."

He shakes his head. "Even if we were together George, how am I suppose to know wether you even really want it? That I'm not just forcing you to stay because you're afraid I'll hurt myself if you leave?"

That seems to trip him up. He hadn't considered that.

"I-" he pauses. "I think you would know."

"Know what? That you don't like me anymore? That you're tired of us?

"Please, Clay. I just- I shouldn't have done it. I regret it."

"This isn't the solution, George."

"Then what the hell is the solution, Clay? Explain to me what the hell I'm suppose to do!"

"You just sit there and feel like shit! Deal with it, like I've been doing!"

There's a silence. Dream runs his hands over his face. George doesn't say anything.

That was harsh. Arguably warranted, but still harsh.

Dream sighs. "We can still be friends, George." He knows that can't be true. He can't even begin to wrap his mind around that concept. How he could push it all aside and act like everything's fine. Even if they just pretended to be friends, for the fans. He's not sure he could even pretend. "That's the solution."

"I don't want to be friends, Clay. I want more. Please. I want you more than it could trouble me to be with you. It doesn't matter; I want you regardless of everything."

Dream is struggling to tell him no. Because he knows he should say no. He should tell him no.

"Please. I miss you."

"We can be friends." He tells him again.

"I don't want that!" He shouts, and it makes Dream jump. "I want to be _with you_ , _please_. I miss holding you."

That makes his chest hurt so hard his collarbones ache. The tears that have been burning at the back of his eyes are so close to popping through.

"We were only together for three days George. You can't say you miss it. It barely existed." He croaks, voice strained from trying to hold back the sob threatening to barge up his throat. Now he's just telling him the things he tells himself.

"Yes I can. I do miss it. I miss holding you. I miss kissing you. I miss everything about you."

He is going to make him cry. He covers his face.

"I miss how your voice is rough in the morning when you first wake up. I miss your voice. I miss your smile, your eyes, your freckles. The way your cheeks would blush when I'd kiss you. I miss the way you'd flirt with me. I miss all your butterfly kisses. I miss holding your hand. I miss hugging you. I miss how perfect you are."

"I'm far from perfect George," he chokes out, interrupting him. _Needing_ him to stop.

"You're perfect to me." He breathes.

Dream shakes his head. This can't be happening. He was in pain for months over this man. He's still in pain over him. Surely it wasn't for nothing?

He wipes his eyes. His heart wants so badly for him to just say yes. But he can't. There's so many reasons he can't; George deserves better, Dream hates himself, it would mean all of this pain was for nothing, if they fell apart again Dream knows it would be the absolute end for him, and he can't stand to let that fact force George to stay with him.

"Please Dream. You make me happy. I'm sad without you."

He takes a shaky breath.

The truth is, in those few days they were together, it was quite possibly the only time Dream didn't have a single bad thought. He felt on top of the world. Content with himself. Content with the world. Content with existing.

He's never felt that way before. No ones ever managed to make him feel like that. Without even having to make him laugh, or take his mind off things. George made him happy without having to distract him.

"No. George. I'm sorry."

He hangs up. It makes his heart jolt, and part of his mind is screaming at him in frustration. He feels at war with himself. So incredibly conflicted.

He curls up on the futon. He silently cries himself to sleep, completely defeated.

Cassidy and Jackson let him sleep in. He doesn't wake up until 3pm, when there's shouting from outside.

**\- - - - - - - - -  
**

George knows this is ridiculous. Some might call him obsessed. Insane. Unable to take a hint.

But he can't stop himself.

"This one," he tells the Uber. They pull into the driveway.

There's a white cadilac parked in the drive way where it's usually empty. He pulls his duffle out of the car. Pays the Uber. And then thanks him.

He stares at the house.

His heart is racing.

He finally gets himself to step up onto the porch. He hesitates at the door. This is all too familiar. Just like four months ago.

He presses the doorbell.

There's a moment, and then a man answers the door. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Can, I help you?" He asks.

George feels himself flush. "Ah- is- is Clay here?"

The man blinks. Doesn't answer. "Who are you?" He asks. George figures this is probably Cassidy's fiancé. Did Dream ever mention his name? He can't remember. He was caught up on other things at the time.

George bites his lip. "Ah- I, um. I'm- George." He stumbles.

The man looks at him for a moment. George catches a brief expression of surprise, and confusion, on his face, but he quickly covers it up. "Why are you here?" He asks.

"Uh, I'm...here to see Clay."

"I don't think he wants to see you."

George blinks. "Can I please talk to him."

The man pauses. Looks him up and down. "One moment." He says. He closes the door.

George sighs. He didn't realize Dream would have a body guard.

Suddenly the door opens, and his head snaps up. It's Cassidy. She frowns when she sees him. She steps out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind her.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses.

"I- I need to talk to him." He says.

She frowns. "He doesn't need to see you. He's just starting to get better. You'll ruin it. You need to leave."

George's mouth opens in shock. He's at a sudden loss for words. And then: "Isn't this what you wanted? Us to break up? Why are you so pissed at me?"

That seems to surprise her. She looks flustered. "I- I didn't want you guys to break up, I just wanted him to be happy."

"And so you basically told me that me being with him wouldn't make him happy." He points out, starting to get angry.

She clenches her jaw. "You need to leave. Before I call the cops."

"I just flew all the way from London to apologize to him and you're just going to send me back?"

"Yes. Yes I am. Because I actually care about how he feels."

George has been trying to bite back his anger. But that sets him off.

"Like I _don't_ care?!" He starts.

"You left him!"

"You forced me to leave!"

"I didn't force you to do anything!"

George is seething. He can't find words, he's so cross.

"I- you- none of this would have happened if you hadn't said anything!"

"I didn't _say_ anything! You were the one who chose to break up with him!"

"Because I care about him! I didn't want to hurt him!"

"Well that sort of backfired on you, didn't it?"

"He wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me. You should have been here for him." He hisses.

And he doesn't really mean that; like he's the hero, and it's her fault. Like he had to carry the "burden" of helping him. He knows she would have been here, if she knew. But he's lost all ability to filter what's coming out of his mouth.

She goes red, and he immediately regrets everything.

"Don't fucking play hero with me. I'm the one who's been cleaning up the mess you made! I've been the one working my _ass off_ to make sure he's okay and safe! _I'm_ the one who's been loosing sleep over him! _I'm_ the one who's been here for him, _I'm_ the one who's been doing this for years!" She screams. "You didn't do _shit_! If anything you made things worse!"

Before George can even process all of that the front door is opening. He hears a "Clay, wait-", and he looks up to see him standing in the door way.

Their eyes meet. He feels his heart race, his breath catching.

There's a moment of silence.

"He was just leaving," Cassidy starts, placing a hand on Dream's chest to push him back inside.

He swats her hand away, fixing her with a glare. "Go inside." He growls.

She hesitates. He steps out, and George catches the man from earlier holding the door open. Dream sends her a look, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off.

"I said go inside." He snaps.

Finally she does. Dream glares at the man, and he closes the door. Finally it's just them. George feels relief.

That is until Dream turns around. He's not happy.

"What are you doing here?" He demands.

That throws George off for a moment. "I- I came to see you."

"I don't want to see you. Go home."

That's like a punch to the gut. George's mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He really hadn't expected this. Dream had sounded so close to his breaking point this morning. George figured showing up would just win him over, automatically.

Was that manipulative of him? Maybe.

Dream sighs. He runs his hands over his face, and when he looks back at him George can't help but notice how incredibly exhausted he looks.

"You...you haven't been sleeping." He notes. He didn't mean to say it out loud.

Dream frowns. "What? You thought I was perfectly fine?"

George bites his lip. He had kind of made it sound like he was better off without him. But he shakes his head, looking down.

"I'm sorry." He says again. "I just- I wanted to apologize. In person."

Dream eyes the duffle bag at his feet. They both know that's not the real reason.

"George we can't do this. We can't be together. I'm a mess. I can't stand to drive you crazy."

"You won't," he tries.

"You don't actually want to be with me."

"Yes _I do_."

He shakes his head. "You deserve better."

"Please Clay."

He huffs.

George is so tempted to just hug him. He wants so badly to hug him. Crush him in a hug. Kiss his lips. Make everything better. Pick up where they started. Just fix it all.

"George you should go home."

Suddenly he breaks. "I don't get this. I thought you wanted to be with me. And now that I'm trying to get you back you're saying no. What the hell?" His voice cracks, tears slipping through.

Dream frowns. He opens his mouth, like he's trying to find something to say. But nothing comes out.

"I understand I broke up with you and I broke your heart but, I just- I made a mistake. I didn't actually want to leave you. I did it because I thought it was better that way, but it's not. I was wrong. Please. I know you still want me so why won't you just _say it_!"

Dream's eyes flutter over him. "How do I know you aren't just doing this because you're afraid I'll hurt myself if you don't? How do I know that you actually want this? That I'm not just a nuisance to you and you're just scared to turn away because you don't want me on your conscience?" He whispers.

"Because- because I love you!" He chokes out.

He immediately covers his mouth. He can't believe he actually just said that. Out loud.

Yeah, Dream had admitted he loved him earlier this morning over discord. But still. It feels terrifying to say. In part because up until this point, George hadn't really considered it. He never let himself think about _why_ and how he cares so much. Hadn't pondered the idea that maybe he's in love with him.

Dream looks at him, surprise on his face. George's heart is racing, dread accumulating in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," George finds himself whispering, "I shouldn't have said that I- shit-"

"Do you mean it?" He breathes, cutting him off.

He meets his eyes. It's a valid question, one he has to ask even himself.

Did he say that because it's true, or did it just come out, without proper reason?

And the truth is terrifying.

"Yes."

Suddenly lips are crashing into his, and for a brief moment he's paralyzed with shock. His heart jumps in his chest, and he's quickly wrapping him in his arms, crushing him close. His heart soars, and for the first time in four months the sinking feeling in his stomach disappears. Their kiss seems to last forever and still not long enough. Dream eventually pulls away, gasping against his cheek.

"Fuck, I missed you." He breathes.

George squeezes him tight, never wanting to let go.

"Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend again?" He whispers.

Dream sighs. "You're sure-"

"I'm positive."

He hesitates. And then _finally_ , "Okay."

George pulls him down for another kiss, unable to get enough of him.

It sounds ridiculous. They were only together for three days; it doesn't seem plausibly long enough to get so incredibly attached, and yet he is.

Dream hums into the kiss, and when he pulls away he's crying.

"Why are you crying?" George breathes, reaching up to wipe his tears.

He rests his forehead against his, sighing. "I just- I forgot just how amazing you make me feel."

George blushes.

"Like none of my problems exist. Like I'd never consider hurting myself. Just- euphoric."

George feels his heart race, and he finds himself saying it again. "I love you."

Dream pecks his lips. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 more chapter!  
> I just want to thank everyone for all the amazing and lovely comments you guys have been leaving. You all honestly make my day, everyday. Y’all are so nice. I’m so glad everyone’s enjoying this story, and I’m glad to hear that it’s helped some of you! I try to respond to all the comments but I’m sure I’ll miss one here and there. (So sorry about that!)


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream pops an important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told ya'll there'd be a happy ending. :)

Dream stares at the TV. Fitzpatrick intercepts the ball, heading for the end goal.

But he's not paying attention to the TV. The Dolphins are losing anyways; he lost interest 30 minuets ago. At this point it's just background noise.

He's nervous. He shouldn't be. He knows it's stupid, to be nervous. George will say yes.

He runs a hand over his face. He hears a _bang_ from the kitchen, followed by a _crack_. Patches jumps up off his lap, Venus's head popping up from the floor. It pulls him from his thoughts. He stands up, checking on George in the kitchen.

He's cracking open a pillsbury can. Dream remembers him saying he was going to make cinnamon rolls for tomorrow. They're having family over for Christmas.

Yet another thing Dream is nervous about.

George has already met his mother, at Cassidy's wedding. She'd tried to be cordial. But it was clear she wasn't into whatever "the hell" they were doing.

His anxiety has been through the roof this week as a result. He knows his mother won't approve. And as much as he claims he doesn't care what she thinks, it still bothers him.

He sighs, coming up behind George to watch him. He slides his hands around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, causing him to smile.

"My mom's allergic to cinnamon." He mumbles into his collar.

George pauses. He pulls away, glancing at him over his shoulder. Dream smiles at the panic on his face. "Wait- seriously? Why didn't you mention this-"

"I'm kidding," he grins, chuckling.

George rolls his eyes, turning back around. Dream watches as George rolls up the Pillsbury dough, placing them on the tray. There's a silence.

"It'll be fine." George eventually whispers, sensing his anxiety.

He sighs. "Yeah."

Dream soaks in his warmth. He shifts, pressing a kiss to his temple. He slips a kiss behind his ear, head dipping to trail across his jaw. George shrugs away, a giggle leaving his lips.

“Stop it, you goofball.”

“Mmmm, I love you,” he mumbles against his neck.

”Yeah, well I’d love you even more if you decided to actually help me.” 

Dream feigns hurt, “I don’t bake.”

George scoffs, “Yeah, remind me to remind you _not_ to bake me a birthday cake next year.”

”It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Dream grumbles. 

“You almost burned down the house.”

Dream rolls his eyes, squeezing him closer. “Touché,” he whispers, resting his head on his shoulder. Dream’s certain he could fall asleep right here. He presses a kiss to George’s collar, purposely breathing hot against his neck. He teasingly slides a hand down George's stomach, thumb tugging at the waist of his shorts.

"Clay," he hisses, slapping his hand away.

Dream huffs. "Come to the bedroom with me." He pouts.

"I'm literally making food. Can you wait?"

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. " _Fine_."

He pulls away, deciding it would probably be best to do it in the living room, by the Christmas tree. It's more romantic that way anyways.

He slips into the bedroom. He pulls open their closet, reaching up to push storage bins aside, finding the present. He sets it out on the bed, pulling open his bedside drawer. He shoves junk aside, pulling the black velvet box out of the extra pair of socks he always keeps in there.

He pulls it open, glancing down at the ring.

He'll say yes. There's no question.

So why is he so nervous?

The box snaps as it shuts, and he shoves it into his pocket. He catches sight of the picture on his nightstand, pausing to look at it.

It's the photo from that time they went fishing, over three years ago. George has a coy smile on his face as he holds up the bass, Dream giving him bunny ears. Placed in the picture frame George got him for his birthday.

It's still probably one of Dream's favorite photos. He can't really pinpoint why. The day following had been a catastrophe. But he likes to think that everything in that moment was absolutely perfect. He was happy, then.

Still happy, now. But then it was more naive; before he fully understood the complexities of his and George's relationship.

Cassidy had been so reluctant to leave after George came back. They managed to make Jackson uncomfortable enough to scare him off (all it took was several heated PDAs), and then Cassidy begrudgingly followed after him a couple weeks later.

After about a month George went back to London, and they had attempted a long distance relationship. It was difficult. They only lasted a month until Dream broke and flew to London to see him. The cycle continued for almost a year; they'd go a month with just talking on the phone or FaceTiming. And then one of them would break and fly over. Stay for a month. And then go back home.

It wasn't until Cassidy's wedding that Dream had decided it was enough. He figured it was time they stopped torturing themselves and just settle down. Dream had begged to move to London with him, but George refused, saying his "flat" was too small for the both of them. Dream had pointed out that they could easily afford a nice condo somewhere, but George was adamant they not move to England. So instead George moved in with him in Orlando.

Patches and Venus (George's dog) took a while to get use to one another, but they eventually got along. They even got another cat, since Luca had passed away. Him and Patches are best friends.

Dream sighs, sitting down on the bed.

He's been planning this night out for months now. He had even planned to do it earlier. But he kept chickening out.

He bought him a pair of colorblind glasses. That was the first "present". And then he'd have him read the Ishihara tests at the bottom of the box. _Ideally_ , George would be able to make it out with the glasses on: _marry me_? And then Dream would get down on one knee. And pop the question.

He runs a hand over his face.

He's been running through his speech for the past week. It's simple. And yet he's terrified to mess it up. He knows George wouldn't care, but he wants it to be perfect.

He stands up. He places the present on the couch. George smiles when he comes back into the kitchen, sliding the rolls into the oven.

He comes around the kitchen island, pulling Dream into a hug. He tilts his head up to peck his lips. "Now we can go to the bedroom."

Dream smiles.

"But we gotta be quick. 15 minuets or they'll burn."

Dream bites back his dirty retort; _will only take me five_. "Come to the living room first. I have a present for you."

George cocks an eyebrow. "But it's not Christmas yet."

"Consider it a Christmas-eve present."

George sighs. "Fine." He says, almost seeming disappointed.

Dream grins. "The bed will still be there afterwards," he reminds him, pulling him into the living room.

George rolls his eyes, a smile crawling it's way onto his lips. Dream stops him in front of the Christmas tree. And then he hands him the present. He bites his lip as George starts to tear away the wrapping paper. George glances up at him when he gets to the black box.

"Open it." He breathes.

George does.

"What is this?" He asks.

"Try them on." Is all Dream says.

He sighs. He puts them on. Dream bites his lip, watching at George glances around the room.

"Woah-" he breathes.

"Can you read what's inside?" Dream asks.

George glances back down. He stares for a moment. Suddenly he glances up at him, face in shock. Dream smiles; relieved that his plan worked. He gets down on one knee, and George slaps a hand over his mouth.

"George Henry Davidson," Dream breathes. "You've absolutely changed my life. Shown me that life's worth living. Supported me despite all the odds. And I could never be more gratefull."

He pulls out the black velvet box, watching a George's eyes widen.

"I've known you for almost 8 years now. Been your best friend for 7, and I've been desperately in love with you for at least five, and I never want to stop."

He opens the box, revealing a sleek silver ring with three encrusted diamonds.

"Will you marry me?"

George ogles at him, silent for a moment. "Oh my god yes," he breathes, and Dream smiles, anxiety flying out the window.

He stands up, embracing him in a bear hug. George is already crying.

"I love you," he cries into his shoulder, gripping him tight.

"I love you more," Dream says, pulling away. "Try it on. See if it fits."

George bites his lip as Dream slides the ring on his finger. It fits him perfectly. Dream grins; he'd completely guessed.

"Mine's in the box." He says, motioning to the glasses box. He watches as George pulls it off. He catches the engraving on the inside of the band.

"Yours says Clay Rue Crawford's on the inside, because your mine and I'm yours."

George smiles. "You’re so sappy,” he chuckles, sliding the ring on Dream’s finger.

“Yeah but you like it.” Dream grins, pecking his lips. George just rolls his eyes, smile bright. Dream can’t help but kiss him again.

It's a sweet kiss, soft and tender, but loaded with love and passion.

"God I love you," George breaks away to say it, breathing it across his lips.

Dream smiles, pulling away. "Let's get a picture. For Twitter."

"Twitter?" George asks, looking momentarily startled.

"Just our hands." Dream says. They still haven't told the fans they're together. Dream supposes they'll have to do that soon. He hopes they won't be angry that they waited so long to tell them.

He takes his hand, making sure to get both of their rings in the shot. He posts it without a caption.

George drags him back into a kiss, and they fall onto the couch, George straddling his lap.

"This is the best gift I've ever received." He whispers, making Dream smile.

They cuddle on the couch, George curled into Dream’s lap, head resting on his shoulder. The whole scenario has Dream’s heart wanting to explode in his chest. He loops his arms around George to hold him close, unable to stop himself from showering him in butterfly kisses. George gazes around the room, glasses still on.

"This is amazing," he breathes.

"Can you see different colors?"

"Yeah, like...your shirt is so red." He says, fingers brushing his chest.

Dream smiles. They go around the room, pointing at different things. And he realizes he never wants this to end; this so incredibly perfect moment. Then again nearly every moment with George is perfect; beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

The cinnamon rolls end up burning in the oven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys/gals/thems for reading!  
> I honestly can't believe how quickly this got attention, and I'm so glad so many of you enjoyed this. Thank you all for all the lovely comments and all the kudos! <3
> 
> Also, if you're interested in my writing I actually have another DNF fic. (Personally I think its written better than this one) Dream's not trans in that one, but you might still like it idk. It's still a WIP, and will probably be updated slowly bc college is a pain in the ass but feel free to check it out if you want :3

**Author's Note:**

> Suicide and depression are serious issues, and this story is not intended to brush them off as if they are not. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, DO NOT HESITATE to get help. You are wanted and appreciated, I promise. I know life is hard sometimes, and at times it might seem like it would be easier to not exist, but your life is worth living. I truly believe everyone is capable of great things, and I believe in you. Whatever your reasons are, please know there are people out there who do care. Even people who don't really know you (myself included). We're here for you.
> 
> _USA Suicide Hotline: 800-273-8255_
> 
> (I wanted to include other countries hotlines but it seems like there are different ones for each; there doesn't seem to be an National number... didn't want to put an incorrect phone number, so sorry about that)


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